Harry Potter and the Riders of the Apocalypse
by HunterBerserkerWolf
Summary: At a young age, Harry becomes Death of the Apocalypse. Now he must find the other Riders while keeping his identity a secret while still attending Hogwarts. Features an independent Ravenclaw Harry, no Golden Trio, and an attempt to not bash characters. Book Two finished.
1. Book 1: Chapter 1

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no profit off of this story

Book One: Death

Chapter 1

The growing child sat up in his bed and slowly stretched his body out, twisting it to get everything to pop. A wave of his hand and his wardrobe flung open. A second wave and his clothes came out to him. He could do that little parlor trick all day and not feel tired, but the fact of the matter was that it felt good to his body, feeling that rush of energy flowing through him. This was Harry Potter.

He wore a pair of black sweats and a black tank top. His body was lean, having no baby fat to speak of. And that was the way he liked it. He laced up the black trainers and stood up, just about to head outside when he heard a caw.

He turned to the black crow with red tipped feathers sitting on a stand on the desk in his room. He moved over to the window. "Sorry Dust." He said softly. He opened the window and gently petted its head before watching it take off out the window.

He then headed down the stairs and outside, locking the door behind him with a key hanging around his neck. He breathed in the crisp cold air of the morning. Everything looked to be the same at Number 4 Privet Drive. It was all normal. The other child of Number 4 was simply doing his morning workout.

Morning in that it was just barely cracking dawn.

He didn't let that stop him though as he took off at a hard run. Bright green eyes kept a focused look on his surroundings as he ran. Nonstop he ran, right up to the playground that he would avoid like the plague during the daytime.

Up along the bench, jump off, grab the tree limb and swing over to the bleachers. Up and down he raced up them using faster footwork. He leapt off the top and landed in a roll at the last set he could go up. He ran up the see saw, jumping from the top before it could hit the ground. He raced over to the monkey bars and he went up the three short rungs before he grabbed the first rung. He turned himself around and tucked in his legs and knees carefully before starting to swing. In a show of flexibility and strength, he got himself up over the bar and released, twisting himself in the air to land on the monkey bars. He landed awkwardly but he paused then.

Dust landed on his shoulder with a caw, flaring its wings out. "I know." He said softly to the crow, petting it on the head. "I'm as good as I'm going to get here."

With a sigh, he set to work finishing up his workout routine. This he hadn't changed very much. He didn't want a bulky body, he wanted something toned and streamlined so he could run when he needed to run. Being out of breath was never a good idea.

It wasn't long before he went back home. His workout clothes went into a hamper. Then he went and took a shower before he dressed once more. A pair of jeans and a nice black polo shirt adorned his body. He made his way downstairs, slicking his wet hair back. The other occupants of the house were still asleep.

In the kitchen, he quickly set to work starting breakfast. It was the only remnant of his old life that he didn't get rid of. He actually quite enjoyed cooking. It didn't take long though for the other members of the household to come down.

His eyes were drawn to the large mass of an individual that he was once forced to call his uncle. He poured the man a mug of coffee with three sugars and two scoops of creamer. The man muttered something under his breath, but he took the source of caffeine anyways. He then gave the man a plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns with two pieces of toast.

Next was the taller woman that he had once called his aunt. She too got the same breakfast, but not the coffee. Vernon would be leaving for work soon and would undoubtedly need the caffeine.

Lastly was Vernon and Petunia's darling son, Dudley. He was as squat and large as his father. He got the same breakfast as Petunia did, none of them saying a word of thanks or a word to Harry as he continued to cook.

He chose some toast, a bit of bacon, and eggs for himself with a glass of juice. His family had long since not spoken out of line to him, especially regarding Dust who sat diligently on his shoulder.

The sound of the mail flap drew his attention and he set his half eaten plate down. He went to retrieve the mail, expecting something around this time. He bent down to pick up the stack and quickly flipped through them. "Bill, bill, bill, letter from Marge... Ah…" Harry smiled down to the thick envelope he received with flowing green handwriting on it that read '_Harry James Potter, The smallest bedroom, Number 4 Privet Drive Little Whinging Surrey.' _

Harry stepped into the kitchen briefly to put the rest of the mail on the table beside Vernon before he spoke up. "It came." He said simply before turning on his heel and heading up to his room.

He gathered his few belongings. Really it was just a few changes of clothes and a few books. These went into an old ruck sack. Harry then headed back downstairs to find Vernon waiting for him, briefcase in hand. Vernon was obviously torn between unhappiness and absolute glee.

Once outside, Harry petted Dust on its head. "Fly." He told it as Dust launched from his shoulder. Harry then got in the car with Vernon putting the ruck sack at his feet. From it, he pulled out an old ball cap and put it on his head, allowing it to cover the trademark scar on his forehead.

Harry then stared out the window while Vernon drove to London. He found himself thinking back to that eventful day three years previously.

-_Flashback-_

_Harry found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him from Dudley's gang. They were entertaining their favorite pastime of Harry Hunting. He was faster than most of Dudley's gang, including Dudley himself. Unfortunately, they also had a tendency to chase him down on their bikes. They'd take their time with it too._

_Harry leapt over a park bench and made his way through the playground, desperately trying to get away from Dudley and his gang. Dudley was usually with them and he managed to keep them from going too far with Harry. But sometimes, like today when Dudley was sick, they were left to act by themselves. It was these times that he really got hurt._

_A loud caw caught his attention and he looked up to see a crow flying low overhead, circling around Harry like a messenger of some sort. Harry swallowed, desperately hoping that it wasn't the messenger he was thinking of._

_But because he was paying attention to the crow, he ended up bumping into a stranger, getting knocked over. He heard the tires screech and brake to a halt as Dudley's gang came up on him. They must have gotten tired._

_The fluttering of a crow's wings brought Harry's attention to the stranger he had bumped into. It was a broad shouldered man that wore a three piece business suit. His hair was jet black and slicked back from his face. He had just a hint of stubble on his jaw and he had dark brown eyes. All in all, he looked completely normal if only rich. Except, the crow was sitting on his shoulder, looking down at Harry._

"_Hey Mister," one of Dudley's goons said moving up. "That Freak bothering you?"_

_The man glanced down to Harry for a moment before he glanced up to the gang of eight year olds on bikes. "Children like yourselves should go play." The man said in a deep gravely voice._

_The group glanced about themselves before they moved away, not wanting to get in trouble with an adult._

_The man sat down on a park bench and hauled Harry up by the back of his shirt. Harry was sat down beside the man. "There we go little one, no harm, no foul. Tell me, why do they call you a Freak?" He asked._

_Harry bowed his head, sure that his answer would cause this man to give him problems. "I make things happen. Strange things that can't be explained and I don't know how." Harry said._

_The crow gave a loud caw and the man looked thoughtful. "So you _are_ gifted." He said. He glanced to the crow that cawed again. "If you're sure?" he nodded to himself. "Tell me little one, how would you like to take care of Dust here?" he asked petting the crow on its head. "He's in need of a good home and he says you would be best for him."_

_Harry glanced up to the crow and while he knew Uncle Vernon would not allow him to keep Dust the Crow, he nodded anyways. He smiled slightly as he felt the crow fly over to his shoulder._

"_I need to go now." The man said and stood up, heading off._

_Once out of sight, no one saw the man turn to ashes that blew away with the wind._

-_End Flashback-_

That day, Dust became Harry's familiar and the crow explained… well everything really. It was a lot to take in until the crow, hearable only to Harry, had gone to great lengths to offer Harry proof of who , and what he was.

That day, Harry became a Wizard, even if only a fledging one. But he also became Death, tasked by a Higher Power to bring about balance once more. But Dust had been quite adamant to the young Avatar of Death. He could not find his three siblings until he found his trusty pale horse, Despair.

It was also that day that the status quo changed around the Dursley household. Harry was no longer a slave and would no longer be beaten. He got the small bedroom. He was treated as a house guest. An unwanted house guest, but a house guest nonetheless.

And in return?

"Turn here." Harry said and Vernon turned at the street ahead. "Two spots ahead to the left." Vernon pulled into a spot. Harry got out of the car and Dust soon fluttered down onto his shoulder. Harry moved around with his rucksack to look in on Vernon.

"Well where is it boy?" Vernon asked, glancing around.

"Don't worry about it Vernon. As per our agreement for the last three years however, I will never darken your doorstep without being asked again of my own free will, this I swear to you. I will not initiate contact with you, or your family, of my own free will, this I also swear to you." Harry reached up and plucked a feather from Dust and passed it off to Vernon. "If I return to your home, assume that it is not of my own volition. I wish for you to burn that. It will call Dust and direct him to me. I will then leave again." Harry watched as Vernon took the black feather with a red tip. "Good-bye Vernon. You were never family, and your home was never my home, but you are a respectable businessman, I will give you that much." Harry turned on his heel and headed into the Leaky Cauldron, leaving Vernon to drive off to work.

Harry tugged the ball cap a little lower before heading inside. Immediately he was assaulted by the smell of burning wax, ale, burning wood, and cooking breakfast. It smelled how an old fashioned tavern would probably smell. Though he was thankful for the distinct lack of smells of bodily fluids.

Harry shifted around the crowds carefully, not wanting his cap to be knocked off his head. He kept one hand on the bill and his head bowed slowly. He made his way to the barman. "Excuse me sir," Harry said adding a touch of meekness to his voice.

The barman glanced up and smiled seeing the young child. "How can I help ya Lad?" he asked.

Harry swallowed for effect. Dust had told him that by acting innocent would likely endear him to most witches and wizards. "I received my Hogwarts letter, but my guardians are non-magical folk, so I don't know how to get into the Alley to get my supplies."

The barman nodded softly. "Come along then." He told Harry and led him around to the entrance. "Three up, two across." He said tapping the bricks in order with the butt of his wand so it didn't open. "D'ya get that Lad?"

Harry nodded softly. "Three up, two across." He repeated, tapping the bricks in order with his finger, though he made a show of jumping to touch those at the top.

The barman then tapped the bricks with his wand properly. Harry was the left alone as the Gateway to Diagon Alley was opened up. He stepped inside, once more holding onto the bill of his cap and the strap to his rucksack. Dust even pulled traitor on him from the crowd, flying above it all straight down the Alley.

Harry made his way through the throng of people. There was some pushing and shoving and it was a slow effort to get down towards the tall marble building at the end of the main alleyway. He glanced up to the warning on the front of Gringotts.

"Traitor." He said to Dust as the crow landed on his shoulder. It responded with a caw.

Harry then stepped into the bank. There was on Teller open and another Wizard was languidly making his way to it. Harry strode powerfully towards the Goblin. Not running, but walking with long powerful and confident strides. Or at least, as powerfully as his eleven year old body could muster. He made it first and he held his hands behind his back while the teller worked on some parchment.

"May I help you?" The goblin asked sounding notably disinterested.

"Perhaps you can." Harry said simply. "I would like to speak with the Potter Family Account Manager at his earliest convenience."

"Name." The goblin said, getting another piece of parchment.

"No." Harry said simply and politely, or as politely as he could muster. "Names have power Master Goblin, especially with Magic."

The Goblin glanced up at Harry at these words and a slow smirk graced his mouth. It was quite unnerving to see a Goblin smirk. "Well said young Wizard. Very few remember that rule." He stamped the parchment and put it into an oaken box that gave a ding. "Unless you have more business to attend, you will need to wait for the Potter Family Account Manager."

Harry inclined his head respectfully before he turned on his heel and strode away from the teller to sit down.

Harry drew a book out and began to read it as he waited. He wasn't sure exactly how much time passed between when he sat down and a Goblin was standing in front of him. "This way." The Goblin said, prodding his leg to get his attention.

Harry rose and tucked the book back into his rucksack and followed the Goblin. He was led into an office that had a bookshelf on one side and a set of armor on the other. In the middle was an ornate desk that the Goblin took a seat behind, clasping his long fingered hands together. "Have a seat."

Harry sat down across from the Goblin that seemed to bore into him with strangely green eyes. Harry didn't say a word, knowing the Goblin was looking for something, but Harry wasn't going to give it his name either.

Like he told the Goblin out front, Names held power.

"I am the Potter Family Account Manager Rotgut, Battle Chief of Clan Rot, and Head of the Finance Division of Gringotts Goblin Bank." The Goblin said after a long moment of silence.

Harry dipped his head, acknowledging that the Goblin had given his name and title. "I am Harry James Potter, Scion of House Potter, and the Avatar of Death." He offered in return. It was often a sign of equality, and failing to give your name and title to someone who had just done so was a sign of grave insult.

The Goblin's face went through a myriad of emotions before finally setting on stoicism. "How can I help you Mr. Potter?"

"I'm surprised you took me at my word Master Rotgut." Harry said. "I was expecting some sort of ritual that would identify me."

"If you are brave enough to call yourself the Pale Rider, then I have no doubt in my mind you are who you say you are. I am old enough to remember the previous Pale one. He would have gutted you where you sit before the wards around Gringotts were even alerted to his arrival." Rotgut said quite seriously as he shifted some parchments on his desk to get to things a bit better.

Harry nodded slowly. He had not known that about the previous Rider, which meant he had quite the name to live up to. "I would like to get the Potter Vaults moving once more, the businesses booming and back under the control of the Potter Family. I also do not have a key to any of my vaults, and I would be willing to pay to have copies made and the previous set destroyed."

"We at Gringotts can help you with that Mr. Potter. However, I would like to iterate that since you are under the age of Majority and have not been emancipated, you can only access your Trust vault for funds necessary to shopping." Rotgut explained, working with a quill and parchment, jotting down what Harry wanted.

"Has my Hogwarts Tuition already come out of the Trust Vault?" Harry asked curiously.

Rotgut wrote down some information on a parchment and deposited it into a black wooden box. It took but a moment before there was a soft ding and a smoking piece of parchment was shot back out. Rotgut grabbed it and opened it. "Indeed, it was taken out just a week ago." There was a second ding and another sheet of parchment shot out. Rotgut grabbed them. "Wait a moment…" Rotgut's tone took a far more dangerous tone.

"What seems to be the problem?" Harry asked curiously. If this goblin was going to be in charge of his finances, he needed to talk with it about any problems in his finances.

"A thief is the problem Mr. Potter, however that oversight will be rectified before you leave my office." Rotgut said, scribbling some information down on some more parchment. He then deposited it into the box and it gave a ding. "Your parents paid for all seven years of your Hogwarts Tuition before their untimely demise Mr. Potter. You are being refunded the tuition taken out a week ago."

Harry nodded slowly at Rotgut's explanation. "Is there anything I need to do?" he asked.

"No Mr. Potter, there is not." Rotgut then caught a parcel that ejected from the box. He tore it open. "I shall hold onto the main vault key for the time being Mr. Potter." Rotgut held up the ornate golden key and put it into a box. "Please press your thumb on the lock."

Harry pressed his thumb to it and gave barely a sound as his thumb was cut. He heard the lock click into place and soon Rotgut placed it on one of the shelves. "Not even every Goblin and Human in Gringotts' employ could open that box without your blood Mr. Potter, and it won't leave this office." The goblin explained. Then he moved back to his desk and passed Harry a bronze key. "That is the key to your trust vault."

Harry glanced to the key as he picked it up. He was thinking. "When does my trust vault refill from the main vault?" he asked curiously.

"Once a year Mr. Potter."

Harry glanced to Rotgut. "I would like to withdraw everything down to five Knuts and then transfer it into another vault, I also ask that any spare key tied to the trust vault be kept active. I want those trying to steal from my vault know that I know they are stealing from my vault. I'd say keep the keys active for six months before destroying the spare keys."

"I take it that you wish to continue this transfer of money from the trust vault to this spare vault annually Mr. Potter?" Rotgut asked, jotting more information down on his slip of parchment.

"Yes, I would Master Rotgut. I know that Trust vaults have a maximum amount they're allowed to carry. In the case I need to access more money than my trust vault allows, I am... well out of luck." Harry said.

Rotgut pulled another parchment and quill from his desk and handed it to Harry. "Sign here, here, and initial here and here." Rotgut marked the spots with his quill.

Harry accepted the self-inking quill and did as asked, signing where necessary and initialing where necessary. He then handed that back to Rotgut who put it into the box on his desk. A rumble occurred before a key shot out. Rotgut then passed that to Harry.

"The vault of Harry James Potter has a current balance of Five thousand galleons, with the reduction of Five Knuts that's to remain in the Trust Vault." Rotgut said.

Harry nodded and stood up. "Then I best go get a withdraw, shouldn't I?" he asked.

The goblin stood up and nodded. "A pleasure doing business with you Mr. Potter. You have a sharp mind, I look forward to seeing the business ventures you make. I will forward the paperwork to you later to get all the Potter holdings out of stasis. It will take roughly a year to make it happen."

Harry nodded and turned on his heel to walk out. Rotgut was very good, because by the time Harry made it to the main area of Gringotts, another Goblin was waiting to take Harry down into the mines.

Harry stopped at his personal vault and withdrew five hundred Galleons. He counted each and every one of them as he placed them into the bag that held count of them. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Goblin enchantment, he wasn't going to put it past the Goblins to have a Galleon or two… slip. After all, Goblins were in the business of making money.

Harry then took a stack of ten galleons and handed it to the Goblin. "I need you to take me deeper."

The Goblin held the stack of ten galleons, shifting them in its hand as it watched the door to the vault lock. "Why and where?" he asked.

"I'll tell you which way it is." Harry told the Goblin. "As for Why… I feel something… something I can't properly explain."

"No skin off my back." The Goblin said before getting in the cart. That phrase was quite literal with the Goblins. Still, the Goblin followed Harry's direction, even going through the enchantments to dispel disguises.

Harry heard Dust caw a warning. Harry gently petted its head feeling the bone dry feathers. "I know." He told Dust softly. "Patience." Dust hated being underground. But Dust was feeling the darkness that Harry was.

It was Death Magic in its ugliest form.

Harry told the Goblin to stop and got out of the cart. He strode forward until he could glance ahead. He saw the dragon guarding the vault and narrowed his eyes. He could produce an Aura that gave anything captured in it a fright. But he wasn't sure if he was powerful enough to do it to a dragon.

"Any closer and I'd have to consider you attempting to steal something from that vault." The Goblin just behind Harry mentioned. "And that would not be a pretty thing."

"I feel something from that vault Master Goblin." Harry said respectfully, turning to look at the Goblin. "Some dark and ugly magic."

"Unless you can identify it exactly, I'm afraid there is nothing we at Gringotts can do about it." The Goblin said. "There is a very specific list of objects we will not hold; everything else, no matter how dark, can and will be kept safe by Gringotts Bank."

Harry glanced back at the vault in question. He could not identify the magic of the object. He didn't know what it was, just that it was unnatural and connected to death in some way. "Then let us be on our way Master Goblin." Harry said moving towards the mine cart.

It wasn't long before Harry was outside of the bank, his cap back in place as he began to walk around the Alley, glancing at all the different stores. Finally, he made his way into the Post Office. He sent his reply with his intent to go to Hogwarts off before moving on.

First things first, he needed a wand.

-_Scene Break-_

Olivander's seemed to be the stop. Inside, he headed to the counter and lightly rang the bell. While he waited, he stroked Dust's back a bit, thinking intently.

"Ah yes, Mr. Potter, I thought I might someday see you." Harry's attention was drawn to a white haired wizard. "I remember your mother and father buying their first wands. Your mothers was Willow with a Unicorn hair, swishy… It was good for charm work." The man began to draw boxes from the shelves, placing them on the counter. "Your father on the other hand had Mahogany with a Dragon Heartstring Core. Flexible but sturdy, good for Transfiguration."

"You must be Olivander." Harry said, crossing his arms slowly.

"I am." The white haired wizard said, looking over Harry's appearance. "And you Mr. Potter, like your parents before you, will undoubtedly be a challenge. Your father must have been in here for three hours trying wands before we found one that liked him. Your mother on the other hand, I admit, was mostly my fault. She told me the wand that called to her at the very beginning. I had her try wands for an hour and a half before she grabbed the one that was right and practically shoved its acceptance in my face." The old man gave a wry grin. "I had hoped to recruit her as an apprentice, alas the Unspeakables got to her first.

"Let us begin Mr. Potter. Your handsome raven will need to remove itself from your shoulder." Olivander then tapped his wand on measuring tape. Immediately, it sprang to life and started to measure Harry's form while Olivander jotted down notes.

Olivander then stopped the out of control tape measure when it tried to measure the distance between Harry's pupils.

"Ash with Unicorn hair, sturdy." The wand maker passed the wand to Harry. "No!" he said taking it back almost as soon as Harry had touched it. "Most certainly not." He passed another. "Cherry with Dragon Heartstring." Once more he passed a wand to Harry only for it to be plucked away.

Harry couldn't help but be amused the longer it went on. It seemed Olivander was having more and more fun the longer it was going on. Even going so far as to jump onto the ladder and letting it slide with him down the shelves.

"I wonder…" The old man said after about thirty minutes. Olivander bent down to a shelf and dug out a black box coming forward with it.

"No." Harry said staring at the box. Something nagged him in the back of his mind. He could not touch that wand under any circumstances. No other wand would accept him if he did.

"Nonsense Mr. Potter, just give it a try." Olivander said, opening the box. "Holly and Phoenix feather, eleven inches. Sturdy, good at Defense."

"No." Harry said a little more forcefully, making no move to touch the wand. Dust cawed angrily, moving to Harry's shoulder once more. "It would fit me, I have no doubt in my mind about that… but it's like… It would not be right." Harry said, trying to explain.

Olivander looked curious. "No? Well then…" Olivander snapped the box shut and tucked it away. The old man looked curious for a while, looking over Harry's measurements. "I do have… one wand Mr. Potter." Olivander said slowly. "But it's… origins are a bit grim."

Harry nodded slowly. "Go on." He said politely.

"Wands are a good connotation to what a wizard is like." Olivander said, drawing up a stool and sitting on it. "Dragon Heartstring, Unicorn Hair, and Phoenix feather cores are largely regarded as the Big three. They have a connection to life in some way. You have been rejected by every one of those cores, and you have a Crow on your shoulder. This Mr. Potter, tells me that there is something about you that would require me to look in the opposite direction." Olivander then drew a lacquered black box from under the counter and set it on the counter between them

"I do not like this wand one bit." Olivander opened the lacquered box to show off an ivory white wand about ten and a half inches in length. "But as a wand maker, I cannot bring myself to simply break a wand just because of its origins. Yew, ten and three fifths inches, Thestral hair wound around a Nightmare feather."

"Nightmares are extinct." Harry said. The horse of the Wild Hunts, it was said to see a Nightmare was to see Death and be forced into the Wild Hunt. The Clergy had tried to hunt them down to extinction with entire battalions of Wizards trained to fight in the name of God. No one had seen a living Nightmare in centuries.

"Indeed they are Mr. Potter, but on occasion, in a place of strong natural magic quite unlike what you will find here in the Alley or at Hogwarts, you can find a Nightmare's corpse still trying to rot away. I have seen the phenomenon twice in my life, and both times it felt as though I had ten years shaved off my life. This wand came into my possession some time ago from an estate sale, so I do not know who made it, though I would guess someone of my line given the craftsmanship. There are a few differences to what I do, but that could just be because of techniques learned over the generations." Olivander said.

Harry looked to Olivander for a moment before he reached out and took the wand in his hand. A coolness rushed up his arm It felt like a key fitting into a lock and clicking it open. A feeling of ice rushed along his veins, but he didn't feel disturbed by it. In fact, it felt glorious, like he was complete.

It was perfect. It felt right.

"That will be twenty Galleons Mr. Potter." Olivander said told Harry politely. He knew that the wand had accepted the wizard, and the wizard the wand.

Harry didn't even think twice about forking over the money.

Before Harry left, he put his cap back on and headed out, not taking it off again while he went about the work of getting the rest of his school supplies. He had grown tired of the crowds so he began to use his Aura to give a general uneasiness around him. Nothing major, but people just generally moved away from him.

-_Scene Break-_

Finally, at the end of the day he headed back to the Leaky Cauldron. While not the finest of accomodations, Harry wasn't going to decline it either. "Excuse me Sir," Harry said in his meek persona while approaching the barman. He had turned off his aura now. "Could I get a room until September the First?"

The barman looked up from his duties and seemed to recognize Harry once again. "Why d'ya need that Lad? Surely ya can go back to ya guardians."

Harry shuffled his feet and dipped his head low. "Well, sir, they… they don't like me much. And I try not to inconvenience them in any way and having to drive all the way back out to London to come pick me up and then to drive all the way back out here the day before would make them angry with me." He mumbled.

"Alright Lad, I can help ya. The name is Tom. It'll be ten Galleons a week, plus an additional two galleons per meal. If ya can't cover it, ya can help me with the cookin' and the dish washin'. Deal?"

"Deal!" Harry said with mock enthusiasm. He should be given an award for his acting. He counted out the Galleons for the stay and paid it all up front. It would leave him just enough of the original five hundred that he pulled out of the bank to go looking for an Owl the next day.

Tom handed a key to Harry and motioned him off, something Harry was all too eager to do. He had an important task ahead of him in life and he couldn't be burdened with having to practice spells, so he wanted to get a jump start on it.

He had to find the other three Riders.

A/N: so Uh.. yeah, just throwing this story out there. Not sure what to expect from it just yet

Yeah, I know it's your standard Independent!Harry story, but I at least got the cliché Gringotts and shopping trip out of the way right off the bat.

Hogwarts Express next chapter! Will Harry make alliances?


	2. Book 1: Chapter 2

_Last Time: harry has left Privet Drive, hopefully for good. He has spoken with his Account Manager at Gringotts and felt a piece of dark Death Magic within the halls of the goblin bank. He has also retrieved his wand from Olivander's._

Book One: Death

Chapter 2

It was finally the day that Harry had been waiting for. September the first, the day he was going to Hogwarts. He woke early and checked his trunk, double checking that he had everything stowed away as well as his robes on top for ease of access.

He had read his books over and over in the weeks since he had started staying at the Leaky Cauldron. In the mirror he looked himself over a bit before he pushed his hair back away from his face, using a bit of a glamour to cause the tips to turn to blood red much like the tips of Dust's feathers.

His ball cap went over his head then, pulled down low enough to cover his scar. He tucked the black dress Muggle style dress shirt into the black slacks. Everything was crisp, clean and neat. He double checked the silver dagger strapped to his forearm before he drew the sleeve down, noting with satisfaction that it was well hidden.

Harry was paranoid, he couldn't help it. And outside the Leaky Cauldron and the Alley, he wasn't allowed to use his wand. Not until the train was on its way

He made his way over to the table and opened the window just past it. He then unlocked the cage and held his arm out. A large European eagle owl with some greyed feathers hopped out onto his arm. It had a wing span of seventy inches and weighed about seven and a half pounds. Dust, from Harry's opposite shoulder cawed at it ruffling his feathers and sticking his wings out. The Eagle owl responded in kind, throwing those massive wings out and giving a bark in return.

"Oi! None of that! Either of you!" Harry barked at both birds. "Ashes, fly to Hogwarts. We'll meet you there." Harry told the eagle owl before letting it out the window and watching it fly off. "And you," Harry looked to his familiar. "Behave."

Dust and Ashes hated one another with a passion, and Harry knew that the only reason they didn't fight was because of him. Ashes was a smart bird, and Dust was his familiar.

Harry shook his head as he picked up his trunk and took it with him down the stairs. He paused at Tom and passed over three Galleons, two for the meal, one for a tip. He ate quickly and calmly, head bowed and looking around him. "Hey Tom, any advice for getting onto the platform?" he asked.

"Touch the pillars until your hand passes through one, that's the one ya want to walk through Mr. Doe." Tom said as he whipped a glass. The man always seemed to be working and Harry wasn't sure how he managed.

"Right, thanks." He said as he finished his food. "And Tom," Harry dropped his tone. "It's not John Doe like I told you, it's Harry Potter." He whispered, holding a finger up to his lips. He then pushed the bill of the cap up a bit so Tom could see his scar. Harry then made his way out of the Inn.

Harry then headed out to the waiting taxi. He had made reservations ahead of time to get one to take him over to King's cross. "Dust, meet me there." He told his crow before letting it fly off. He helped the gentleman put the trunk into the back of the cab.

It was a short twenty minute drive through early morning traffic before Harry got to King's Cross. Dust indeed met him there and settled on his left shoulder. Harry then made his way along each of the pillars, slowly touching each and every one of them. He paused when he felt his fingers pass through what should have been brick.

Harry glanced around at all the non-magical people before he stepped through the Pillar. People were already milling about and the station was filling up. Parents and guardians desperately said their goodbyes. Harry had none of those, so he boarded the train and quickly made his way down the compartments until he came across an empty on.

He took some parchment from his trunk and dipped his finger in an ink well. In big bold letters he wrote 'Knock First.' He did not want to be disturbed, no matter how much tradition it was to sit and mingle with possible future housemates.

Harry blew the ink dry carefully before he stuck it over the window and used a simple sticking spell to keep it in place. He pulled the blinds down and recapped his ink well. The trunk then went in the overhead rack after he pulled a book from it.

He sat down in one of the comfortable seats and opened his book, crossing a leg over the other. If only he could pass the entire train ride in the comfort of silence. It wasn't that he was anti-social, he just wanted to find the other three first than worry about friendship. The other three would be like brothers and/or sisters to him for all of their lives. It was hard to match that.

It wasn't saying that no one else would be like a brother or sister to him for their life, but… He wasn't an optimist really.

About ten minutes after they had started to leave the station there was a timid knock on the door. Harry glanced up from the thick spell book he was reading and marked his page with a bit of scrap parchment before snapping it shut. Manners always left a good first impression.

Standing, he went and unlocked the door before sliding it open. He was faced with a boy his age that wore clothes a bit too big and too ragged to have originally been his. The hair was surprisingly bright red, and the boy's brown eyes showed that he hadn't faced many hardships yet. "Yes?" Harry asked, the one word being used succinctly to convey he wasn't just letting the boy in.

"Everywhere else is full…" the redhead stated. "Do you mind if I sit in with you?"

Harry was tempted to call him out on a bold faced lie. It was a magically enhanced train, surely it accommodated the needs of the students. But after some consideration, he didn't know enough about the enchantments on the train. He wasn't sure if it could expand to accommodate more students or if there was a fixed number of compartments. "Certainly." Harry said and moved out of the way of the door. He even helped the redhead lift his trunk up to the rack.

"I'm Ron Weasley by the way." The redhead said sitting down across from Harry.

"John Doe." Harry said, giving the false name. Like Tom the barkeep before, Ron didn't recognize the obviously fake non-magical name. He would very likely wear that name out as much as possible. "And this is Dust." He gently touched the crow's head. Harry picked up his book and started to read once more.

"What house do you reckon you'll get mate?" Ron asked.

"Don't know, don't particularly care." Harry said

"Better hope not Slytherin." Ron said. "Every Dark Wizard has come from Slytherin."

"Merlin was a Slytherin, and without Salazar, Hogwarts would not have been founded. Or if it was, it would just be a different house that had these 'Dark Wizards'" Harry said already bored of the conversation.

Apparently, Ron was able to pick up on it because he quieted down and simply sat in silence. At least for a little while. Ron seemed much used to talking with someone about anything. "What team do you support for Quidditch?" he asked, almost bouncing in his seat. "I like the Chudley Cannons, I know their seasons haven't been great, but I'm certain it's only a matter of time before they get some talent."

Harry was tempted, very tempted, to throw Ron out of the compartment. But he wasn't going to do that because a boy wanted to talk with someone his own age. But for Harry, his time at the Dursley family home caused him to grow up much faster than he wanted to. He preferred the escape of a good book, he preferred to work and study in absolute silence and he tended not to talk any more than was absolutely necessary for his needs.

It had either been grow up faster, or continue to act like a child with the Dursley's. Once Dust came to him, Harry had chosen the first option with gusto.

Thus, he glanced up with piercing green eyes and stared into Ron's brown eyes. "I don't support any Quidditch team. I don't even know what the sport is. I don't care to know what the sport is. I much prefer mental challenges like chess to team sports. I even exercise by myself, with only Dust at my side."

Harry had hoped to quiet the redhead with his casual dismissal of a sport the redhead was very clearly a fan of. That did not happen however and even more surprising was the next question out of Ron's mouth. "Have you ever played Wizard's Chess?"

Harry glanced up from his book. "Well color me intrigued Mr. Weasley. No, I have never played Wizard's chess."

"I have a board in my trunk, would you like to?" Ron asked, bouncing in his seat again.

Harry stood up and took the redhead's battered trunk down and set it between them. "Dazzle me Mr. Weasley."

The board and pieces were well worn, obviously played quite a lot but Ron set up the board just like regular chess. Except, he called out for his pieces to move. Wanting to simply see what happened, Harry found himself sacrificing a pawn. He heard the pieces calling out for him to do something else, but Harry reaffirmed the move. Ron took it, and his pawn was smashed to rubble before being brushed from the board. "Oh my." Harry said. It added a bit of urgency to the game.

"That's a Wizard's chess." Ron said a little smugly.

And smug the redhead should be. Harry was no chess master. He was quite good, and could take an opponent down quite quickly. He even listened to the advice of his pieces, sometimes using it and sometimes disregarding it. If there was one thing he would change, he would make would be so that the other side couldn't hear what a player was saying. But despite all of his skill and the advice of his pieces, Harry found himself solidly in checkmate.

That was when a knock on the door sounded. Harry stood up and opened it to find a lunch lady with a trolley. "Anything from the trolley dears?" she asked.

"No thank you, I'm all set." Ron looked a bit put off as he held up the hash sandwiches.

Harry tossed two Galleons over at Ron, watching the redhead pluck them out of the air somewhat awkwardly. He flushed a bit and mumbled a thanks as he got some of the offered sweets. Harry fished out two more Galleons and bought a pot of tea.

Harry brought his trunk down to balance the tray of tea with the cups and condiments on without interrupting their chess game. Harry found it fascinating to watch as the pieces pulled themselves back together and stayed that way.

"Why did you give me the Galleons?" Ron asked as he munched on what looked like a wand made of licorice. Unimaginatively, it was called a licorice wand.

"You beat me, fair and square." Harry said as he set up the board once more, this time taking the other side. "I always thought it would be best to have some sort of prizes in games like these, and you Mr. Weasley are an excellent tactician on the board. You could go professional if you'd like."

Ron flushed, his ears burning red as the game started up once more. Ron was quite good at the game in Harry's opinion. It was difficult to tell what he favored. Harry knew he favored his Knights and his Rooks. He absolutely loathed his Bishops, and he tended to save his Queen until he knew she could do as much damage as possible

Ron on the other hand was a complete enigma, and could switch on the fly. Harry thought he was winning until Ron baited him and absolutely crushed him the second half of the game. It was actually rather demoralizing with how badly Ron stomped on him. Harry passed over another two Galleons to the redhead for his victory.

A second knock sounded and Harry glanced up. "Why is this compartment so popular today?" he mused to himself. It wasn't like anyone knew exactly who he was. He opened the door to a rather plain looking girl already in her school robes. She had brown bushy hair and seemed to glance around the compartment a moment. "Yes?" Harry asked.

"Have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost his." She said.

Harry shook his head. "Dust, find it." It didn't mean he wasn't willing to help. He sat down as the crow took off out of the compartment. Harry closed his eyes.

"Oh! You're reading some of the course material already as well?" The girl asked, sitting down near Ron as she saw Harry's book. "Oh, I'm Hermione Granger by the way."

"Charmed." Harry said drolly. "Yes, I am reading the course material already. It is the fourth time I've read that particular book, wanting to make sure I understand the theoretical long before I begin to prepare on the practical. My name is John Doe."

"You're an unknown man?" Hermione asked, sounding amused. "Or your name is embarrassing. I doubt anyone but a Muggle Born would get the joke."

Harry kept his eyes close. "No, my name really is John Doe." He said flatly and bluntly. "My adoptive family had the last name of Doe and named me John as a joke because the orphanage didn't have a birth certificate for me." It was a lie of course.

"And you are?" Hermione's voice changed slightly, indicating to Harry that she turned to look at Ron.

"Ron Weasley." Ron offered.

"One car back, fourth compartment on the left." Harry said suddenly, his eyes opening. It wasn't long before Dust came back and settled on Harry's shoulder.

"How did you know that?" Hermione asked, standing up quickly to go get the toad.

Harry smirked a bit. "Magic Ms. Granger." He offered. He'd keep the fact that Dust was his familiar to himself as long as he possibly could. Due to their bond, Harry could literally see with Dust's eyes. All Harry had to do was close his eyes.

Hermione gave a huff before heading out. It was obvious she didn't like that catch all statement.

"Round three, double or nothing?" Harry asked Ron once the door was closed once more.

Ron nodded enthusiastically as the board was once again set up. "What did you mean by wanting to understand the theory behind the Magic?" he asked.

"I despise subpar work and slacking off Mr. Weasley." Harry said rather bluntly. "I have a goal and I know the first step to that goal. Working towards that goal will not leave me a lot of time on my hands, so I will have to do as much work as quickly as possible while keeping my quality to my standards or better. Since I have gotten to book, I have read it as much as possible while also taking notes on what I have read, jotting down things to ask our Professors about."

Ron nodded slowly. "So what is your goal John?" he asked.

Harry smirked. "That's a secret Mr. Weasley, one I plan to keep for as long as possible."

Ron left it alone and they started play their third game. Harry watched Ron more than the game, looking for any possible tells or bluffs. Ron hid it all behind a mask of smugness at his ability to play Chess. Harry was quite soundly beaten a third time and passed over the four Galleons. He had lost the rough equivalent of forty pounds already.

Harry leaned back, studying the board. He had not derived a method to win against Ron in all three of their games. "You, Mr. Weasley, have a talent. I would talk to a few born of Non-magical parents to make friends. They might be able to get you books on chess strategy and books on Bobby Fischer, a prodigious Chess Player of the Non-magical world."

Ron flushed a bit, his ears turning red once more at the praise. But then he noticed something he had to ask about. "Why do you call Muggles Non-magicals?"

Harry shrugged. "It is accurate enough, and seems less disrespectful than calling them Muggles. They are still human, and as such deserve to be treated with the respect you would give another human."

Harry's attention snapped to the door being forcefully opened with a pompous looking blonde strolling in with two that were obviously the dumb muscle of the Triumvirate. "I am looking for Harry Potter, word is he's on this train."

Harry rose to his feet. "He's not in here. Just Mr. Weasley and myself."

The blonde looked to Ron with cool blue eyes before looking back to Harry. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Malfoy then stuck his hand out.

Harry heard Ron snort. "Manners Mr. Weasley." He said. "Doe, John Doe." Harry accepted the hand shake for what it was.

"Doe?" Malfoy asked. "Are you some sort of Muggle-born?" he asked with obvious contempt.

"Couldn't tell you." Harry lied smoothly, shrugging his shoulders. "My adoptive guardians are Non-magical, yes. But I don't particularly know about my lineage, I'm sure Gringotts will help me but I didn't have the time to go through a lengthy ritual to find my bloodline over this past summer."

Malfoy regarded Harry with reigned contempt. He obviously didn't want to insult a possible pureblood who could be a valuable ally. But at the same time, he was utterly disgusted by Harry's Non-magical upbringing. "You'll find some Wizarding families are better than others, Doe." Malfoy said, glancing to Ron for a moment before back to Harry's eyes. "I can help you there."

Harry regarded the outstretched hand again. "I will need time to consider your offer Mr. Malfoy. Now, you were interrupting a chess game. I can see obvious animosity between you and Mr. Weasley and seeing as he was here first, it is only polite that you are asked to leave."

Malfoy raked a sneer at Ron before he had a smiling façade towards Harry. "Of course, it is only polite. I am also looking for someone, so I best be off anyways." Malfoy then moved out of the compartment with his dumb muscle. Harry closed the door behind him.

Harry sat down across from Ron and set up a fourth game between them. It looked like Ron was quite angry. "What was that about? Telling me about manners?" Ron demanded.

Harry glanced up at Ron. "Manners, Mr. Weasley. These are what separate a civilized individual from an uncivilized individual. Manners and respect, as much as it galls you to give them, must always be shown to those of social equals or superiors. Manners and respect offer a much better impression of an individual. You knocked, seeing a sign, and as such you were admitted and we've had a civilized conversation about chess while playing these wonderful games for four hours now. Mr. Malfoy just barged in without knocking. This gives a bad impression of him and I would not have him staying in here any longer than was absolutely necessary."

Ron was playing a far more aggressive game because of his anger and making a few mistakes that Harry was able to capitalize on. "But it's Malfoy!"

"Yes, and this makes Manners and respect all the more important." Harry said as he took Ron's Queen. "Think of it this way, Mr. Malfoy has a name in the Wizarding World, you can see it in the way he holds himself. He has money and breeding. Imagine you're both at the same position in a company or part of Government, both ready for a promotion. You have a friend that has breeding, money, and a name in the Wizarding World. You're not necessarily great friends, but he puts a word in with your supervisor and Mr. Malfoy's father has put a word in as well.

"This is where Respect and Manners come in Mr. Weasley. Your supervisor sees you calling Mr. Malfoy precisely that in a bland, uninterested tone, where Mr. Malfoy calls you Weasley in his usual condescending tone. The promotion will put you on par with your supervisor. Will your Supervisor promote someone that is condescending to his equal, or respectful to his equal?" Harry asked.

Ron stewed for a while, clearly angry but thinking about what was being said. It was clear though while he had anger troubles, Ron was able to learn from his anger, and Harry's words. Finally, Ron started to play like he had the entire trip and quite soundly beat Harry one last time. Harry passed over another four Galleons.

Harry shifted the empty tea tray around from his trunk. He then got his robes and made quick work of changing throwing them on over his body. He wasn't going to change into the school uniform when his current outfit was inoffensive. Granted, he would wear his uniform every day he was there, but it did not make sense for him to change just yet.

Harry then politely stepped out with Dust when Ron said he was changing into his uniform.

Harry breathed slowly and deeply, in and out in though. While Ron's anger might have made him a candidate for the Rider of the Red Horse, there was no lust for battle. And that was exactly what was needed. There needed to be battle lust, even if just barely restrained.

So Harry checked him off a mental list.

Hermione and Malfoy were checked off the same mental list. They were not candidates for the Horsemen. There would be certain… attributes that the other three would show. It was fine though, he had plenty of time to look for them. Dust had told him that all four would be at Hogwarts this year.

But that was Harry's only hint, which really thinking about it wasn't much of a hint. Would it be only first years? Would it include everyone? Would any of them be a member of the staff?

His thoughts were interrupted when Ron came out. "We're supposed to leave our trunks here. They get taken up to the castle for us." He said.

Harry nodded and adjusted his cap again, noting how out of place it was. He swapped it out for the hood of his robes that he had custom put on there. He took a moment to put the cap in his trunk. He then headed out, keeping his hood down.

"Firs' years, over here! Firs' years, over here!" Harry heard called out, but his attention was drawn elsewhere. Ron was too occupied with the large man to watch Harry slip away.

Harry found himself encountering quite possibly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He ran his hand along its skeletal appearance, feeling the soft flesh of its body. It was obviously a horse of some sort, with beautiful wings. He felt a kinship and familiarity with the creature. Harry found himself getting up onto the pale horse like creature and rubbing the sides of its neck.

He was quite glad for his hood as some of the older students began to point and whisper, with words making their way around. It turned out most people couldn't actually see what he was sitting on unless they had seen Death. And it was a Thestral. Well, Harry liked it. He was riding it up to the castle.

A prefect finally broke things up and told Harry to get down. But seeing as the carriage behind Harry was full, he gently nudged his heels into the Thestral. It began to gallop up the hill, bouncing Harry up and down a bit while his legs stayed tucked in behind the wings.

Harry could honestly care less that the people in the carriage were whispering about what he was doing. He felt alive while he rode the Thestral, like it was right.

When the Thestral came to a stop, Harry slid off of it and petted it gently on the head. "Thank you." He told it softly before moving away. He saw where the boats were coming to a stop and made his way over to them.

"John!" Ron said as Harry made his way closer. "Where did you go? How did you get up here?" he asked.

"A Thestral Mr. Weasley, I rode with the upper years perched on one of Hogwarts' beautiful Thestrals." Harry said, his voice conveying his absolute enjoyment of riding the creature.

"Yeh can see 'em then?" The Giant of a man asked, coming up behind Harry.

"I can." Harry said, having to look up a bit to see the man, but that was okay. His hood was still low enough to cover the scar, and the red tips of his hair were bound to throw anyone off, even if it was the color that his mother had for her hair.

"Would yeh like ter help me feed 'em sometime?"

"I might very well take you up on that offer Mr…"

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts." Hagrid held his hand out.

Harry felt his hand get engulfed by the man's large mitt. "John Doe, I think I would like to help you feed the Thestrals sometime Mr. Hagrid." Harry then stepped aside to let the man pass and continue to lead them inside.

"Here they are Professor McGonagall." Hagrid said to a stern looking woman once they came inside.

And Harry lost interest. With no disrespect to the Professor intended, his mind was still on the Thestrals. It was a hard act to follow really. She would have had to shifted from a cat or something into the stern woman before them for Harry to focus fully on her.

So he only listened with only a half interested ear as McGonagall spoke about the Houses and what they were. How they'd be like family, something about House Points and a cup at the end of the year. It went into what Harry deemed as useless information. McGonagall then left to go see if 'they' were ready for them with a mention to smarten up.

Harry didn't lower his hood.

Some people asked about for Harry Potter, wondering where he was. Some speculated that he was only coming as a formality, that he had somehow been trained by Merlin himself. Some speculated he was coming in style by flying in on an Egyptian Blackscale, never minding that that particular species of Dragon was extinct.

Eventually McGonagall came back and led them in amongst the other students. Harry glanced around, hearing Hermione mention that the ceiling was enchanted to show the outside sky. He ignored it. It wasn't something to do with Thestrals. He felt Dust bat the back of his head with its wings.

Before them sat a stool with a hat placed on top of it. The hat looked quite ragged and mundane to Harry until a seam split open and it started to sing. Harry's back stiffened at its opening verse. "_So the Four come once more to Hogwarts._" But the rest of the verses after that spoke of the Founders and the Houses, so Harry wondered if it might have been a Fluke. Or were the Founders' Heirs there?

"When I call your name, come up and place the Sorting Hat on your head to be sorted into your House. Abbot, Hannah!" McGonagall said loudly and a young blonde went forward, obviously worried.

"_Hufflepuff_!" the hat roared out after a brief moment on her head. The table two to his right erupted with applause for Hannah and Harry noted they had black and yellow colors.

And thus the sorting commenced, with Ron mentioning about how he'd kill his brothers for saying they had to wrestle a troll to be sorted. Harry was slightly amused at that. When his fake name was supposed to be called there was some questions from Ron about it, but Harry gently nudged him with his elbow. The redhead would see why soon enough.

Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Hufflepuff. "Potter, Harry!" McGonagall called out.

Harry lowered his hood and made his way forward. Whispers and silence followed him as he headed to the stool. He stared at it impassively before he sat down and Dust flitted down to his knee.

"Mr. Potter, only Owls, toads, rats, or cats are allowed as Pets here at Hogwarts." McGonagall said.

"Professor McGonagall, Dust is not a pet. Dust is my familiar and you're holding up this ceremony." Harry said in a tight whisper. Unfortunately because everyone was waiting with bated breath, people heard his whisper and began to pass the message that he had a familiar along.

Harry grit his teeth quite audibly as the hat was placed on his head. "_Let's see here… Oh my… Occlumency shields, I haven't seen these in quite some time." _Harry heard the statement and locked down his mind, letting his conscious and memories go to Dust.

Harry was inside his mind as a specter. He couldn't be seen, he couldn't be heard, and he couldn't even be felt. He watched the hat fall to the damp cobblestone of the Labyrinth that he had set up as his defense. "_Right then… here we go…"_ The hat then formed itself a body made of the same tattered leather, with the hat acting as the head. Harry could see the body was just a shell, with emptiness being the core.

The hat then took off running at a wall and simply passed through it. Harry chased after it, quickly over taking the hat. He was using words he had only heard Vernon and Marge use, generally when talking about him. Harry was throwing up defense after defense before the hat, but it just passed right through them.

Harry felt his spectral form yanked back as the Hat made it to the central core of his defense, where he and Dust had merged their conscious temporarily.

It was a dark room with Ivory colored furniture and bookshelves filled to the brim with books. It was impossible to determine which book belonged to Harry and which belonged to Dust. They both sat in a chair before a fire place.

The hat scooped its hat off its body and bowed before placing the hat back on. "_Greetings Pale Rider_." The hat said.

"How did you get in here?" Harry asked, standing up slowly. He was prepared to fight. He had never had his defenses tested like this before.

"_Peace Mr. Potter." _The hat held up both hands. "_When I was created, I was enchanted with enough enchantments to pass unharmed through even an Occlumency Master's barriers. Occlumency won't ever hinder me. However, given that is prying into someone's personal life, the Founders also enchanted me to keep every secret to only the one with the secret. So you being the Horsemen of Death will only remain between you and me unless you tell someone else. Excellent shields by the way, while they would not withstand a direct blast from a Legillims Master, they will hold the passive scans at bay."_

Harry did not like it, but he slowly sat down again. He wasn't going to separate his and Dust's minds though, but he watched the bookshelves morph into two separate ones. One filled with books, the other filled with scrolls.

"_Every defense Pale Rider."_ The hat said knowingly as he went to the books and began to rifle through them, not even reading, just flipping the pages. "_I must sort you properly after all. Quite a bit in here, excellent mind. No shortage of bravery either. Fair cunning, and loyalty to those you deem worth it. To be fair Mr. Potter, you could fit in well with any House of Hogwarts."_

"Except the people." Harry said rather bluntly.

"_Yes, except the people. You bow to no one, why should you? You are Death after all. And there are elements within Slytherin that would expect you to bow. You also cannot tolerate rudeness, a fine trait if I say so myself. No, Slytherin is not the house for you. You would likely have a blood bath within a few weeks._

"_So we come to Gryffindor. Home of the Brave and Courageous. Plenty of Bravery here. Climbing to the top of your primary school with no gear, quite an accomplishment Mr. Potter. But it was not to do anything more than to prove you could do it. Given your silent demeanor and search for the other Riders, I do not think Gryffindor would best suit you._

"_Hufflepuff, there is not much need for me to talk about. You are loyal and unafraid of hard work. You even take it to a whole other level. And for someone you care for you would storm the Gates of Hell itself without hesitation. But you won't open up to just anyone. You like your solitude. No, the house of Badgers is not for you._

"_Which leaves me only one choice, and from what I have seen… Better be RAVENCLAW!"_

Harry was yanked out of his mind to see the house of blue and bronze erupting in cheer. A small professor towards the head of the table stood up on his seat with both fists pumped into the air. "Yes!"

"_One last thing Mr. Potter, the other three have already been Sorted and they are students."_

Harry went to the table, pondering that statement. The hat was helping him find the other Three horsemen in the only way it was allowed to. They were students that had already been sorted.

Harry glanced over the assembled students. That didn't necessarily mean they weren't first year students though.

Harry promptly fell into though, ignoring the questions around him as he sat towards the head of the table. He was going to think more on this matter.

Chapter End

A/N: So Harry has been sorted into Ravenclaw. This is… well it's quite frankly based on the fact that I have one Rider per house.

This won't be a Golden Trio type story. Harry will interact with Hermione and Ron, but he's not going to be 'best mates' with them.

As you can also see, I'm trying very hard not to bash anyone on purpose.

I don't think I need to explain why Harry can see Thestrals.


	3. Book 1: Chapter 3

_Last Time: Harry has met Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy, but under the alias of John Doe. Upon his arrival at Hogwarts, Harry found himself drawn to the school's Thestrals. During his sorting into Ravenclaw, the Sorting Hat tells Harry that the other three Riders are there at Hogwarts and have already been sorted before him_

Book One: Death

Chapter 3

Harry lay back on his bed in the dorms, glad for the muffling charms placed on the drapes so that he didn't have to hear the rambunctious actions of the other students. It couldn't be helped after the rather delicious feast as well as the excitement of finally attending Hogwarts. It wasn't that he wasn't excited, rather he just was waiting to do something productive with it and talking with people just wasn't that productive. He had already eliminated his dorm mates based from the other Riders, based solely on their way of speaking.

He still had the rest of his House to Eliminate, an activity that would unfortunately take time.

It was the first night and he was already extremely annoyed at the stares and whisperings. He could barely eat his food with it. He almost threw up his Deathly Aura on full blast to get them to stop looking at him. He settled for turning it on a trickle, making him uneasy to look at.

Once they arrived at the Tower, Professor Flitwick, their Head of House, had announced that he would be meeting with each and every one of them over the next few days to better get to know them on a personal level so that they would feel more comfortable coming to him with any problems or issues. It was fine with Harry, granted he seriously doubted he would be going to him for many problems. Harry's was the next day rather early, which was just fine for him.

Harry was also pulled aside briefly by the squat Professor who explained that Harry was requested to meet with the Headmaster after breakfast. Harry was quite intrigued about this meeting. Harry had done nothing wrong, or at least nothing that he could think of. However, he would go anyways.

"It doesn't matter." He told himself before closing his eyes and forcing himself to get some sleep.

Harry woke up early the next morning and took some time to readjust his trunk to make sure everything was readily accessible no matter what he was looking for. He slipped his wand into the holster on his right hand that would eject it into his hand. He then dressed in his workout clothes and headed out of the Ravenclaw Tower.

As he started to run, he allowed his senses to slowly spread out. There was a lot of magical energy flowing through the castle, even some Death Magic worked into the wards, making everything difficult to pinpoint.

Harry pointedly ignored the paintings that slowly woke up as he did his morning workout. He ran down flights of stairs, he jumped from one set to another. He jumped from one landing down to another, rolling with it before racing back up the stairs, running along the narrow railing.

While he had worked on the routine for three years, after being in the Leaky Cauldron since July the twenty-third, Harry wanted to make sure to shake off all the rust before he went for what would undoubtedly be a challenge.

Just as the sun was rising, Harry made his way back to the Dorm, answering the riddle that the Bronze eagle was giving. He headed to the bathroom and set to showering in a stall with his head bowed and the water beating down on him. He searched out with his senses once more.

A shudder ran down his spine and his eyes snapped open. He stared at the tile floor, turning his head to look pointedly in one direction. "No." he whispered ever so softly. "There are two?" he whispered. "Such foul Magic. Who could have made it?"

This left Harry in a dilemma. He was getting another sense of something like he had encountered from Gringotts, a very foul and ugly source of Death Magic that Harry couldn't name. However he also felt himself drawn to the Third Floor Corridor on the Right hand side that was supposedly 'Out of Bounds to those who do not wish to die a most painful death.'

Harry wondered what Dumbledore was keeping in that corridor that he would promise death on the students. And not just any death, but a very painful one at that. Given who Harry was, and not just being a young rebellious child, he was quite curious about what this Death was. Perhaps Harry could befriend it.

Harry's schedule was already rather full with classes, bringing his Family account and business out of stasis so it was making money properly, homework and studying ahead in Magic, going through his various classmates to figure out who the other Riders were, looking for Despair, and keeping himself in shape. His schedule was a bloody nightmare to be looking through the halls of Hogwarts to find Death Magic artifacts and the Third Floor Corridor mess.

"Fall into a Routine Potter." He told himself as he finished washing up. He then dried off and changed into the school Uniform with robes. He kept his wand and his knife in their sheathes before he head down towards the Great Hall.

He took a seat at the head of Ravenclaw table, making sure that the staff table was to his right. His back was to the Hufflepuffs and that was quite fine with him.

With him sitting there, some food began to pop up on the table, along with stuff to drink. He had tried pumpkin juice the night before and at the smell of it his face screwed up in disgust. It was just some foul drink that he just could not appreciate. He took the orange juice however and got himself a plate with eggs, bacon, and some toast. He grabbed a spare piece of the plain toast to feed to Dust.

As people started to mill in, some of the upper years grumbling about the fact that September the First had fallen on a Sunday that year. On a split second decision, Harry started up his Deathly Aura. It was a drain on his magic, but it was worth it to keep the stares at him down to a minimum.

He ate quietly and fed Dust at the same time. Finally, he drew out a book to start reading with a quill and some ink nearby so that he could jot down questions and circle what he didn't understand. The fact he read a second year book was not lost on him.

Being the Pale Rider meant he would need to advance in his studies as quickly as he could, which would mean he'd be doing a fair amount of self-study work.

By seven-thirty the Great Hall was full, even as loathed to get up as many students were after a lethargic summer. Professor Flitwick made short work of passing out the schedules but he paused at Harry, noticing Harry was working from the second year Charms book. "Are you attempting for a Charms Mastery Mr. Potter?" the short professor asked.

"No Sir." Harry said as he continued to work.

"Then pray tell, why are you going over such theories of magic without having even started the First year material?" Flitwick asked.

Harry glanced up his Head of House and offered a smile that diminished his Aura, couldn't be Deathly if you were smiling warmly. He already liked Flitwick. There was exuberance to him that was quite refreshing. Perhaps it was just Charms Masters in general. "I suppose that will have to wait for our meeting later this afternoon Professor."

Flitwick laughed good-naturedly. "Remember Mr. Potter, you have to see the Headmaster after breakfast. You should be done with your meeting in time to make History of Magic."

"Of course Professor. You'll be there as well, won't you? You are my Head of House after all." Harry said.

Flitwick had paused a moment. Dumbledore had requested to speak with Harry in private. "Of course Mr. Potter, I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about anyways. Now, I've heard a rumor. Is it true that you went by the alias of John Doe while on the Hogwarts Express?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir, that is true."

"Why ever did you do that?" Flitwick asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders slowly. "It's like this sir; I'm famous in the Wizarding World. Likely by the time I die, I'll be even more famous. The Potter Family Account Manager at Gringotts has even gotten a request from the company that produces Chocolate Frogs and more to the point the cards, to have my likeliness printed on Chocolate Frog cards. I still haven't decided how I feel about that. I didn't want to spend seven hours harangued by people wanting to meet the Boy-Who-Lived versus Harry Potter. I didn't want people asking about my scar or about the events of that night. I don't rightly know. So I spent seven or eight hours going by John Doe. It kept people from bothering me. I spent the entire ride with the youngest Mr. Weasley playing Chess, an activity that I quite enjoy. I'm afraid that on the trip back to London this summer, or even this winter, I'll have to be quite… difficult to the other students who will be persistent in speaking with me. All I want is to be left quite alone unless I'm having an intelligent conversation. Asking me to see the scar or about that night is not intelligent. I was a little over a year old, and I'm supposed to know what happened? I don't think so. It is my belief that something my mother did that night was what caused me to survive."

Flitwick took a moment to consider Harry's words before nodding. "Well-reasoned Mr. Potter." He said. "I look forward to a more lengthy conversation with you this afternoon."

Harry inclined his head politely and watched as Flitwick made his way back to his chair at the Staff Table.

Harry started his Aura back up when he felt too many eyes on him and took a grim satisfaction in the way many quickly glanced away as though Harry had glared at them until they did so.

He continued with his book until it was almost time for his meeting with Dumbledore. That was when Harry felt a press against his Occlumency shields and he battened them down tight before lashing back. He didn't see anyone holding their heads in pain, but then again he wasn't experienced in Legilimency. He wasn't a master of Occlumency either, so he couldn't pinpoint the magical signature that had done it. His scar prickled though, but he ignored it in favor of scanning the staff slowly.

He also had his Death Aura up quite high. Any higher and he would start having ramifications.

Students began to file out of the Great Hall and Professor Flitwick made his way over to Harry. "Are you ready Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"As ready as I will ever be." Harry said.

The two walked in silence up to the Third Floor. They went towards the left to a Stone gargoyle. Flitwick paused before it. "Lemon Drops." He said. Harry watched as the Gargoyle leapt out of the way and the two began to ascend the steps one at a time.

Flitwick knocked on the door. "Come in Fillius." Came from inside.

Harry's first impression of the Headmaster's office was that it was lacking. He could feel Dust settle his claws into his shoulders, but Harry didn't mind too much. He knew Dust was prepared to do one of the few attacks he could because they were very clearly in Dumbledore's domain.

Books upon books, instruments upon instruments. The room spoke of a man who was well into over a century of living and studying magic. The portraits of the former Headmasters drew Harry's attention and he frowned after a moment, realizing that none of the dates under the names went back to the time of the Founders. The position of Headmaster seemed like it was a development implemented later on. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Harry noticed the singular chair in the room, like Dumbledore had planned to have just Harry in the room. That wasn't happening.

"Ah Harry!" Dumbledore said quite cheerfully. "Please, sit." He motioned to the chair. "Lemon Drop?" he offered from a bowl of the sweets in front of the desk.

"No thank you Headmaster and I think I'll stand." Harry said, clasping his hands behind his back. "It would be rude of me to sit and force Professor Flitwick, my Head of House, to stand."

"I was hoping to have a conversation with you in private Harry." Dumbledore said, his twinkling blue eyes looking to Harry's green ones.

"Mr. Potter." Harry said simply. "You are not familiar enough with me to have leave to use my first name Professor. As for Professor Flitwick, he is required to be present at all meetings between you and me, Headmaster." Harry said simply.

Dumbledore lost some of the joviality on his face. He even had a look of slight disappointed. "I have heard some disturbing things, Mr. Potter, which I hope you could clear up for me."

"That's not a question Headmaster." Harry said as Flitwick took his seat beside Harry, noting that he was still going to be staying.

"I heard that you could see the Thestral herd." Dumbledore said. "Who did you see die?"

"That is a rather blunt question Headmaster, blunt and personal. I fail to see how that is of any relevance." Harry was not going to give Dumbledore an inch to work with.

"I just want you to know Mr. Potter that you can come speak with me about it. Seeing someone die can be a traumatic experience." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling again and looking like the friendly grandfather type.

"I think if I need anything of the sort, I will speak with my Head of House or with the School Nurse regarding my mental health." Harry already didn't like the man. It wasn't anything that Dumbledore had done wrong or anything like that. Harry just didn't trust how the man had a finger in everyone's pie. He was Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. The man literally had a finger everywhere.

The twinkling effect dimmed a bit. "Why didn't you go with Hagrid and go along with the boats?" Dumbledore asked.

"With all due respect to Mr. Hagrid intended, Professor Dumbledore, I liked the Thestrals more. It was quite exhilarating to ride them." Harry said. There he answered honestly and fully with that one.

Dumbledore's eyes started to twinkle quite a bit this time, as though he had been pleased at the almost childlike answer. Of course, Harry was anything but childlike really. "There seems to be a reversal on your tuition Mr. Potter, do you know what happened?"

"The Potter Family Account Manager has it on record that my mother and father had paid for my Hogwarts Tuition, in full for all seven years, before their untimely passing. I'm sure Hogwarts withdrawing the funds had been an accident." Harry said. He doubted it; it should not have come up through the Headmaster. Still, he'd give the Headmaster an out this time at least.

Dumbledore stroked his beard slowly. "I'll look into it, double check the books myself if I have to." Dumbledore then sat forward, his long fingers clasping together as he stared into Harry's eyes. "I had sent someone to your Aunt and Uncle's home to take you to Diagon Alley on your birthday Mr. Potter. They had said you were no longer staying with them. Would you care to clear that up?"

"No." Harry said flatly, staring into the blue eyes of the Headmaster. "I believe we've covered irrelevant topics already in our conversation Headmaster. You are my Headmaster, not my guardian. Stick to school topics."

"Mr. Potter, I'm just worried about your safety." Dumbledore said, sounding disappointed again.

Harry was about to tell the old man where he could shove it when he felt something press against his Occlumency barriers. With a snarl, he lashed back at them. But Dumbledore didn't flinch and Harry had his wand in his hand. He didn't know many spells, but it was still aimed at the Headmaster. "Stay. Out. Of. My. Mind." Harry said biting off each and every word. "Or I will see you in court. That is twice in the same day I have had someone try to invade my mind and I will not have." Harry didn't even care if he won the court case or not. People would be more wary of Dumbledore if he was taken to court over invading a minor's mind. "My living arrangements are not up for discussion. My finances are not up for discussion. And if you call me into this office again for anything but my education, I will withdraw from Hogwarts."

Harry turned on his heel and walked out. He barely sheathed his wand as he walked. His fury gripped him tight and even Dust was affected by it, literally giving a loud screeching caw at anyone that moved close to Harry. His Deathly Aura was on as high as he felt was necessary and he hid his hands by tucking them into the sleeves of his robes. It'd be best if no one saw his skeletal like hands because his anger was gripping him.

He made it to History of Magic and plopped down in his seat. He took out his books and parchment and ink. He willed his aura down to a more manageable level and counted to one hundred in his mind. He allowed his hands to be seen a bit better, noting they looked slender and pale, but not too off. It was just in time too, as Professor Binns, the Ghost Teacher of Hogwarts was taking roll.

"Potter, Harry?" he asked. He had screwed everyone else's name up with the exception of Harry's. It made Harry sit up a little and watch the Professor.

"Present." Harry said, his tone as monotone as he could manage it.

Binns began to lecture when he had finished roll. Harry tried hard, shaking his head a bit to keep from falling asleep as the Ghost droned on. It was quite possibly the most boring thing he had ever done. Even Dust had fallen asleep.

Still, Harry forced himself to stay awake and take notes on what Binns was saying.

Finally, he concluded his lecture. "Mr. Potter, please remain behind." Binns said as he dismissed the class.

Harry packed everything away and gently petted the sleeping Dust. He wondered what Binns wanted. When everyone was gone, Harry stood up and made his way to the Ghost Professor. "Yes Professor?" Harry asked.

Binns ran his hands over each other. He looked nervous. He took a ghostly tissue from a pocket and rubbed his face like he was sweating. "Mr. Potter…" he swallowed. "I… I mean we, the Ghosts of Hogwarts… We… Know what you are." He managed to get out. "It is why you haven't seen any of us."

It brought back the fact that the night before one of the Prefects had commented it being strange that the Ghosts didn't swoop into the Great Hall to look upon the new First Years.

Harry looked thoughtful, taking in Binns' appearance and actions. "You're terrified of me." Harry said.

"God yes Mr. Potter." Binns said. "I was born a Muggle-born and was a devout Christian all through life and even in Death Mr. Potter. But you…" Binns shook his head and rubbed his arms. "You are the Devourer of Souls. Even talking to you, I run the risk of being consumed. But devouring souls is not your only purpose and it is why I elected to speak with you on behalf of the Hogwarts Ghosts.

"The Ghosts want nothing to do with you Mr. Potter. Even Peeves, a Bloody Poltergeist, wants nothing to do with you and will go out of his way to make it happen Mr. Potter. But I, I beseech you Mr. Potter, set me free please. Allow me to go to my Maker to be judged. I thought Albus would replace me shortly after I died but it has been decades since and I've felt myself decay year by year. It is taking everything I am to even ask this of you Mr. Potter."

Harry sent a mental jolt to Dust who had centuries more knowledge than he did. It was why Dust's memories and knowledge appeared as scrolls in the mind rather than books. Harry pushed his Deathly Aura to maximum once Dust responded. His features turned gaunt, and his eyes seemed to burn with a furious fire. Harry reached up with a pale and skeletal like hand. He placed it on Binns who shivered at the first contact he had had in centuries.

Harry shuddered a little bit. His breaths came out quite visible to himself like steam. He could feel the hunger. The need to feast upon the Ghost and to consume, it gripped Harry like a cold iron fist around his entire body. It was like a seductive whisper in the back of his mind telling him to consume the Ghost.

Binns hadn't been a particularly powerful wizard in life. But he had been no slouch. And that translated into Death. The magical aura around Binns smelled so good. It tasted delicious. It would be so easy to consume it, to take that magic into his body and amplify it.

"**Control yourself young Rider!" **Dust's voice came strong in Harry's mind. "**Free this one, free."**

Harry opened his eyes, never having noticed he closed them. "Cuthbert Binns, I set you Free." Harry whispered and felt the Ghost pass through his fingers.

"Thank you Mr. Potter." Binns spoke softly before he disappeared

Harry felt to his hands and knees shaking with wide eyes. That was the first time that he had ever done that. He didn't even know he had that power. He heard Dust caw, but once again it was more of a sense of what the crow wanted instead of actual words.

Harry gently pet Dust and got back up slowly. He didn't think it would be good to get sick in the classroom. He managed to get outside and breathed a bit easier, his aura completely off and his body slowly returning to normal. Harry never questioned it. It was magic after all.

He sucked in air desperately as he covered his face with his hands. The need to consume Binns had been impossibly strong. Had it not been for Dust, Harry would have begun on a long and treacherous road that would have had him falling over a precipice quite soon.

Harry glanced to Dust. He had never asked, but he was curious now. "How many riders have you been with Dust?" The crow cawed loudly, and Harry nodded. "All of them…" he muttered softly. Every single Rider of the Pale Horse. It was no wonder that Dust knew what was expected of Harry.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry made his way into Professor Flitwick's office just past the Charm's classroom. He knocked softly on the door and waited for the call of 'Enter' before he stepped into the office. He watched as the door locked itself behind him.

Professor Flitwick's office was a rather amazing bit of work to it. Trophies from Dueling tournaments were scattered about, as well as moving pictures showing Flitwick at his absolute best in the dueling. The desk sat lower, along with Flitwick's chair which was perfect for his size. But there was a second desk in front of the smaller one that was normal sized with a normal sized chair behind it.

Harry's attention however was drawn to bits of parchment around on the walls that were framed. Harry quickly recognized them as Charms Essays, brilliantly done Charms Essays that Flitwick had kept. There was even the Essay Flitwick had wrote to gain his Charms Mastery. Harry gently touched the glass of one that had the name of Lily Evans on it.

"The last essay I had ever received from your mother Mr. Potter. Lily was quite the amazing student in charms." Flitwick said with a smile. "She had the highest score in Charms of her year during her NEWT year, and I haven't had another student with her flair since. I hope you'll understand that I sorely hope you have inherited the flair she had."

"I cannot promise anything Professor, but I understand your hope." Harry said as he slowly looked at a few more of the essays before he made his way over to the chair and sat down slowly.

"Tea Mr. Potter?" Flitwick offered as a tea set danced its way across Flitwick's desk at the flick of a wand.

"Please." Harry said and watched as Flitwick poured the tea and levitated it over with the efficiency of a Charms Master.

Harry looked at the dark tea and took a drink and almost coughed it up as soon as it touched his tongue. He set it down carefully and quickly and coughed, even while Flitwick chuckled. "Strong and spicy." Harry said, pounding his chest.

"A Goblin blend Mr. Potter." Flitwick said quite joyously. "It is always amusing to watch people drink it unprepared."

Harry couldn't help but give a bit of a chuckle. However, he raised his cup and offered his Head of House a small salute with the cup before he drank it a little more carefully. It was strong and had a heavy taste of spices.

"Bravo Mr. Potter!" Flitwick said cheerfully. "I think you're the first person in three years to go back for more."

Harry offered an amused grin. "I won't waste good tea Professor, even if it's strong."

Flitwick nodded and he drank his own without the care Harry had to. "I wish to level with you Mr. Potter. During this interview, I will broach some rather personal grounds with you and I want you to be honest with me. Usually I wouldn't do this, but you're somewhat of a unique individual in that you realize that information holds a great deal of power so you play your cards quite close to your chest. So I wish to give you some background information on myself as a show of trust.

"I was born the product of rape." Flitwick started bluntly and rather detached. "My mother was a Goblin and for some odd reason, a Wizard decided to take her and rape her. Perhaps he was drunk? I don't know. I do not hold it against my mother, even if she never wanted me. But because of my mixed heritage, I didn't really fit in anywhere. The Goblins did not see me as one of their own, even if they raised me until I was eleven, and I certainly did not fit in with Wizards."

Flitwick took a drink of his tea. "I quickly came to the realization that if I wanted respect from anyone, I would have to take it. During my time at Hogwarts, I devoured knowledge with such a frenzy that it quickly alienated me from everyone. Not that I wasn't already alienated due to my heritage, but that is neither here nor there." Flitwick waved his hand off.

"At the age of twenty, I had finally managed to get the goblins of my Mother's clan to sponsor me for the Dueling Circuit. At the age of twenty-one, I placed two hundred and fourth on the Dueling Circuit of one thousand competitors." Flitwick said quite proudly.

"However, I broke the terms of my agreement with my mother's clan. I had assured them I could place within the top two hundred, not the top two hundred and five." Flitwick said and rolled his shoulders a bit. "So after having every Goblin of the clan beat me, I was forced away and they would not sponsor me again. However, at twenty-five I was approached by a wealthy individual that saw past my lineage and offered me an Apprenticeship under him."

Flitwick leaned back into his chair with a smile. "I spent five years studying charms. When I was thirty, I went back to the Dueling scene under my Master's sponsor. That year I placed in spot number ninety-nine." Flitwick took a drink of his tea. "My mother's clan offered me Sponsor once more, and I accepted. I got myself some better dueling robes and a better practice arena. The next year, I placed number seventy-five.

"I went back every year after that, refining my technique and acquiring contacts. I spent a decade on the Dueling circuit before I finally placed in the top ten of one thousand aspiring duelists. The money wasn't terrible, but being in position ten did not offer a great prize either. And if you land yourself in the top ten, you're not allowed to register with the Dueling circuit for two years. It gives others a chance. But the money I earned wasn't going to get me through the next few years and while I was sponsored by both a Goblin Clan and my Charms Master, I wasn't exactly rolling in Galleons either. It was then I was contact by Headmaster Dumbledore to come teach at Hogwarts."

Flitwick paused a moment, drinking his tea. "I don't really think I need to go on Mr. Potter. I went on to become a twelve time champion before I retired at a nice old age. So here I am, in my twilight years at the ripe old age of eighty-three, teaching Charms. In that time, since I started at this school as a young Ravenclaw, I have learned many things. But I wish to pass two onto you. One, the journey is just as important as the destination. So make the most of it. Two, you do not have to like someone if you can respect them. Sometimes, respect is better than liking them. I respect Albus, but Ancestors knows I don't like him. I don't agree with the way he does things from time to time."

Harry had listened the entire time. He realized that this was quite an abbreviated version of what Flitwick had gone through, but Harry remained quiet about it nonetheless. Harry moved his teacup and saucer over to the edge of his desk for a refill, which his Professor gave him quite readily.

"Now, Mr. Potter, what did your Aunt and Uncle mean when they said you're no longer staying with them?" Flitwick asked. "This is just between yourself and I. I won't report it unless I absolutely have to and I don't think I do."

Harry ran his tongue over his teeth slowly before he took another drink of the Goblin tea. "It means just that Professor. I refuse to return to them of my own free will and I swore that I would not. It was an abusive home towards me, and there is no reason good enough to ever put a child in an abusive environment."

Flitwick nodded. "I quite agree Mr. Potter. Now what are your living conditions over the summer?"

Harry rubbed his neck slowly. "I will have to speak with my Account Manager, see if my family has a home I could make livable or if there's a place I can buy and make suitable for cheap."

"An excellent idea. Might I also suggest checking Hogsmeade? There is a possibility that there is property available, plus it's close to the school. You won't have to ride the train back and forth to school when you're going home and coming back." Flitwick said.

"I'll have my Account Manager look into it as well." It was a good suggestion with merit.

"Now why are you going over such theories of Magic, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked clasping his hands on the desk. "I've been racking my brain all day but I cannot fathom why you do it."

Harry inhaled slowly before exhaling. "Well… think of it like this. I keep myself fit by working out, sometimes for more than two hours a day. I'm pulling the Potter accounts out of stasis and getting gold flowing once more after they've been stilled for roughly ten years. It's going to take a lot of work and a lot of back and forth between Gringotts and myself. I wish to start investing early using my own money and own merits. I need to study laws and politics so I can get a feel for the situation before I turn seventeen and I have to enter the realm of politics. I have Hogwarts school work I need to keep up with, but I refuse to allow myself to do any substandard work. I want to do work of excellency and be at the top of my class. Plus, there are realms of Magic not taught here at Hogwarts that I am rather interested in, like Conjuration and Alchemy to name a few." Harry shook his head. "I'm not good with social interaction Professor, in fact I don't give second chances to people that don't earn them. I pointedly loathe or abhor rudeness to a point I'm willing to point blank hex someone for it."

Flitwick nodded slowly, understanding. "Do not alienate your classmates too much Mr. Potter." The good Professor said. "Especially if you wish to enter politics. You would be surprised at how well school yard arguments can be overlaid with government politics. It does not have the same repercussions but even still…."

Harry nodded and he finished off his tea. "I will have to look into getting some more of this tea." He said more to himself as he stood up. "It was excellent talking with you Professor."

"Of course Mr. Potter."

"Please, call me Harry when we're not in the classroom Professor." Harry said before he headed to the door. He paused, tapping his finger against the frame. "Who was your Charms Master?"

Professor Flitwick smiled a little mournfully. "Augustus Potter." He said proudly. "He was the black sheep of the Potter family; he would have never been Head of House or Heir. And he would have died penniless had it not been for his sponsoring me for the Dueling Circuit. I quite remember the look on his face when I found out he had gone begging to his family for the money to pay for the lodging and registration fees for me. He had been ashamed. But before he died, Master Gus told me one thing. 'Fillius' he said 'If you do nothing else for me, remain true to yourself and teach others the wonders of charms.'" Flitwick smiled a bit more. "Now off you go Harry. I believe that's enough for today."

Harry nodded before he headed out of the office in thought.

A/N: And another one bites the dust. I'm going to try and plow through this book as quickly as possible while keeping each chapter at about this length. How long will it be? I have no idea right now. I'm already planning the next three or so chapters which should put us at about… Oh... Halloween? Christmas? Somewhere along those lines.

The other Horsemen won't really be revealed until the book they appear in, but I might drop hints. Then again, I might not.

Adios~!


	4. Book 1: Chapter 4

_Last Time: Harry has felt another piece of Foul Magic at Hogwarts. He has shown his distrust of Headmaster Dumbledore during a meeting with the Headmaster regarding some of the things Harry has done, and Harry clearly drew a line in the ground. Harry has released Professor Binns from the mortal plane. During a meeting with Professor Flitwick, Harry learned more about the stout Charms Professor._

Book One: Death

Chapter 4

Harry was in the Great Hall on Wednesday eating breakfast and also looking over financial information. It seemed his battle with the paperwork would be never ending. But that was fine. He had a good sense of his finances and where they were coming from. It also seemed that his family had invested, in recent years, in Muggle companies.

It was likely his mother's influence if he really thought about it.

He rolled up the tamper proof scroll and stamped it. He then put it into a box that directly delivered it to Rotgut in Gringotts. It would keep most people from being able to intercept it. A few exceptionally powerful people might, but the box would quickly incinerate the copy of it and alert both ends of the box.

A loud screech announced Ashes' arrival and Harry briefly glanced over to his Eagle owl. He was amused as he landed in front of the staff table, clutching a dead rabbit in his talons. Ashes then set about the work of eating his catch right there in front of the Staff Table.

"Must you really do that there?" Harry asked amusement clear in his voice.

He got a loud screech from Ashes who threw out his wings as though trying to say 'I can explain!' It was even more disturbing by the piece of entrails hanging from his beak.

"Now what have I told you about talking with your mouth full?" Harry asked.

Ashes seemed to look contrite as he ducked his head down to eat some more and take the time to actually eat it before giving off another screech. It then ducked its head down and ate more.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle a bit before he stroked Dust's wings a bit while reading his book. Personally, Harry would rather a good novel over his texts, but he took what he could get. The texts were rather dry reading, but informative. And it helped with his magic in the long run.

"Aren't you going to stop him?" One of the Ravenclaw Prefects asked, sounding mortified. Penelope Clearwater if Harry remembered correctly.

"Why?" Harry asked almost incredulously. "Ashes is a bird of prey. He's not going to eat strips of greasy bacon or links of sausage. He's going to hunt, he's going to kill, and he's going to eat whatever he can find because that's how being a bird of prey works." Harry heard the screech and glanced over, seeing entrails. "Manners Ashes." He said. "My point is right there," Harry motioned to Ashes eat the rabbit. "Is Natural selection at work. The Rabbit wasn't fast enough; it didn't blend well enough to avoid Ashes. It became food; it won't contribute to the gene pool."

Penelope looked aghast at the idea. "And do you apply Darwinism to everything?" she asked.

"Don't be daft." Harry said and shook his head. "Of course I don't. Animals are the only thing we really can apply Darwinism to. Applying Darwinism to humans doesn't work. Those not good enough still end up breeding, they still end up populating more and more. Besides, one could argue what makes one person better than another? Certainly not lineage, though genetics do help in the matter." Harry shrugged. "Regardless, I'm not going to make Ashes stop eating his food where he feels relatively safe to."

Harry then gathered his things and stood up. He began to walk out of the Great Hall, though he paused by the Caretaker. "Mr. Filch, I will see you down here after my morning classes, promptly at a quarter before Eleven. I will need a broom, a dust pan, a mop and a bucket. Ashes is my bird, so his mess is mine, but for the time being, I must first get to my class." Harry didn't see the look of surprise on Filch's face before he headed away.

_-Scene Break-_

Harry was of the mindset that transfiguration was going to be one of those branches of magic that for most people would be hit or miss. In the books he had already read, it was demanding visualization and intent. It was one thing to be able to do the wand movement and the incantation properly, but there was something more that had to be done

He remembered that Olivander had said his father's wand had been good for Transfiguration. So did that mean that some of that skill would be passed down to him? He wasn't sure to be perfectly honest.

It didn't take long for the classroom to start filling up and people quickly took their seats. While many wanted to sit next to Harry, over the past few days he had kept himself solidly alienated from those seeking to befriend the 'Boy-Who-Lived.' He expected this period to be much the same.

He was already checking over the Transfiguration book to bring the knowledge to the forefront of his mind.

"Heir Potter?" He heard a distinctively female voice. He placed a strip of parchment at the spot and turned to give his full attention. It was a Slytherin girl with dark brown hair, she was heavier set than most of the other girls, and there was a distinct… look to her face. He wouldn't call her ugly, for all he knew she could turn into a beautiful swan in a few years.

"Yes?" Harry asked standing fully, as was respectable. Staying seated would give a bad impression after all. It would be like he was claiming station over her.

"I am Millicent Bullstrode." She said and offered a hand. "Might I sit with you?" she asked.

Harry accepted the hand. "Indeed you may." He said and offered the respectable kiss to the back of her hand, as was expected. Tom the barman had drilled a bit of basic etiquette into Harry's skull when he had stayed at the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry then watched as she sat down and situated herself before he sat down himself. He hadn't had a partner yet. "How might I help you Ms. Bullstrode?" he asked.

"Do you always call people by their last name?" Millicent asked.

"Yes." Harry said. "It is far more polite, so you never know if I'm insulting you or respecting you."

Millicent made a sound with her mouth. "That's quite the Slytherin comment Mr. Potter." She said. "In fact, what you said at breakfast and to Filch all were quite Slytherin statements. This tells me you have quite the Slytherin mindset, not even speaking about the little stunt you pulled on the train, Mr. Doe."

"The Sorting Hat and I both agreed that Slytherin was not the House for I, Ms. Bullstrode. I bow to no one and forces inside that House would expect me to bow." Harry said.

"So, Mr. Potter, are you insulting me or respecting me?" Millicent asked as she got out her own materials for the class.

"At this time neither. Though, as with Mr. Malfoy, that can quickly change." Harry said, seeing the blonde ponce out of the corner of his eye.

"And which way did it change with Mr. Malfoy?" Millicent asked, not even glancing in Draco's direction.

"I'll leave that up to you to decide Ms. Bullstrode." Harry said, just as the door to the class shut, announcing the beginning of the class.

Quickly, the tabby cat on the Professor's desk leapt off and in midair began to change into a tall and stern looking witch. Harry was unsurprised. While he wasn't sure if he could transform, Dust was awfully quiet on the matter, he had no doubt in his mind that a Transfiguration Mistress could transform like that.

McGonagall began to go through, explaining Transfiguration to the students, going so far as to perform various examples with barely a flick of her wand. It was quite the interesting thing to watch. Briefly, Harry wondered if his father had been as accomplished as his instructor.

McGonagall then passed out needles to each of the students, detailing that they were going to change the needle into a matchstick. She gave them instruction on how, telling them to visualize the matchstick, to give intent for the needle to turn into what they visualize, and the incantation and wand movements for it.

It was simply a sharp jab for this particular work.

Harry leaned back into his chair as he stared at the steel needle. He placed his fingertips together with his index fingers against his upper lip and his middle fingers against the tip of his nose. He was thinking quite hard as he stared solely at the needle. Everyone else was jumping right into it, but Harry was thinking, detailing it in his mind.

He drew his wand and looked at it. He rolled it between his hands, feeling the texture of the wood. He felt the way there were gentle ridges, even after it had been sanded smooth. He bent it slightly, feeling the way the wood refused to yield after a point. He brought his wand to his nose and closed his eyes. He gently inhaled; there was a sharp scent to it. Vastly different from what metal smelled like.

"What are you doing?" he heard Millicent ask of him and he held up his hand as though to tell her to leave him be.

Harry then gently licked the shaft of his wand. There was a bitter taste, likely the varnish that Olivander used. But there was also more to the taste, and it left dryness in his mouth. He opened his eyes to look at his wand.

He then closed his eyes again and inhaled slowly. He thought back to the matches he used, lighting the fireplace for Vernon. He imagined the scent; he let it fill his nostrils.

He turned to look at the needle and he gave a sharp jab of his wand while saying the incantation loudly and clearly. He wanted; he needed the needle to change. He needed it to be yielding but firm. He needed it to have the sharp scent to it. He wanted it to have a dry taste with a hint of sharpness to it. He wanted it to feel porous, and rough. And he wanted the scent of sulfur where the eye of the needle was.

His needle twitched for a moment as Harry felt the pull of his magic; it went through his body, through his arm and to his wand. Finally, the needle began to thicken; the eye of the needle closed up and rounded fully. Finally, it took the form of a match with a cherry red tip.

"Bravo Mr. Potter. Five points to Ravenclaw." McGonagall said. "For another five, would you care to explain how you did it on your first try?" she asked, smiling slightly at the success.

"I stopped to think Professor." Harry said simply. "There had to be visualization. I wondered why start with a matchstick and it occurred to me, it wasn't necessarily about the match stick, but instead about the wood." Harry lifted his matchstick up slowly, twirling it in his finger slowly. "Wood is something we don't think about on a daily basis. Every day we touch wood, yet we never really stop to examine it. So we had the perfect thing to practice visualization with." Harry held up his wand, twirling it in his fingers slowly.

"The wand allows us to feel the texture of the wood, to feel how it's porous but smooth, rough, but sanded. It allows us to smell it, because if the matchstick does not smell correctly, then it has not been Transfigured correctly. Transfiguration is about changing one thing into another, so it must match that other thing in all aspects. I tasted the wood simply for more visualization." Harry looked to the matchstick and suddenly stuck the end of it in his mouth. "And it does taste like wood.

"Lastly we come to intent. Magic everywhere, no matter light, dark, or grey, is all about intent. If there is no intent behind the magic then the magic will run rampant. You must let magic flow freely through you, but you must also direct it. I didn't care in what order the magic transfigured the needle. But I gave it constraints. It could not be bigger than a match, it could not smell, taste, or feel like anything other than a match, and it could not look like anything but a match." Harry glanced up to McGonagall. "How the magic turned the needle into a match is beyond me. Did it start at the core? Did it start at a tip? Did it start at the spot closest to the direction of some major magical leyline? Perhaps it started with what I first visualized which would be the feel of the wood. It matters not; the needle is now a matchstick."

"Take another five points Mr. Potter. May I?" she asked holding her hand out for the match.

Harry passed it over to the woman. He felt no praise, no reward from the points really. It was the first time he earned them and so he promptly, and quickly, decided he cared nothing for them. He'd keep the ten points he earned, but from that point on, he wouldn't accept them anymore.

McGonagall got a matchbox off of her desk and placed the tip to the side. Harry leaned in at this. This was what he was truly wondering. Did he actually turn the tip into an actual match head? Or did he have to learn alchemy to turn things into sulfur?

There was a rough sound, but no fire and McGonagall looked knowingly. "I would have been quite worried Mr. Potter had this started a fire." She said and brought the matchstick back to his desk, setting it down. "Transfiguration is not Alchemy. There are subtle laws that Transfiguration must follow that Alchemy does not. Alchemy is turning one substance into another. Transfiguration is changing one object into another. Just because the match looks, smells, feels, and even tastes like a match, I assure you it is still quite a needle. Even when we get into animal transfiguration, there are certain nuances that I expect all of you to pay close attention to, for the animal's safety as much as your own."

Harry sat back in his seat, pondering the words that Professor McGonagall was saying. He supposed what she was saying was true. Eventually, whether the magic ran out or through an outside force, any object changed by Transfiguration would eventually revert back to its base form.

It made him want to learn Alchemy and Conjuration all the more. A temporary thing like Transfiguration was alright and all, but he wanted something more permanent.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry settled in for lunch thinking about Transfiguration. He had not started into the course material as much as he had his other studies. He had been hoping to find out about more advanced work like Conjuration and Alchemy. As it stood though, according to the older students, neither branch of magic was taught at Hogwarts anymore.

Not enough people had the talent for either and those that could have it didn't put the extra effort to learn it. It had apparently gone out of Hogwarts curriculum several years prior. The seventh year prefect mentioned doing a study about it that the school had the classes cancelled about a hundred years prior.

For Harry, that meant it was going to take some effort to find someone that could teach him about either art. Surely the former Professors would have made some attempts to pass their craft down. He just had to find someone that it was passed down to.

Harry was brought out of his musing when a set of red edged clothes sat across from him. It took a moment to place the red hair and brown eyes. "Ah, Mr. Weasley, how might I help you?" Harry asked pleasantly.

"Is it true?" Ron asked sounding impatient as he got a plate to grab a bit of food that was sitting out. He also poured himself a generous goblet of the pumpkin juice.

"I'm afraid Mr. Weasley that you'll need to offer me more detail than that. I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry frowned a moment. What could Ron be talking about? Did someone else know he was the Pale Rider? Did someone say something about him being the last one to see Binns? There were a dozen things that flitted through his mind, each one a possible rumor that people could be speaking about.

"Is it true you sat with a Slytherin in Transfiguration? Are you alright mate? Why would you do something like that? Everyone knows that those in Slytherin turn dark." Ron asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes and slowly set his silverware down. He threw up some of his Deathly Aura, not so that Ron would be frightened off but more for the deer in headlights effect. He wanted Ron's full attention and he had it. "Let me speak plainly and clearly Mr. Weasley, so there is no miscommunication between us.

"I sat with an eleven year old girl, not the reincarnation of Morgan le Fey. I sat with a girl that is ambitious and of noble blood. Yes, she is cunning and willing to use whatever is necessary to get ahead in life. I refuse to judge someone about that. She was nothing but polite, and cordial to me. At no point in time did she try to belittle me, my actions, or those I speak with on a regular basis. You, Mr. Weasley, will afford her much the same respect or any other Slytherin student that I chose to sit with during classes. You tread a very fine line Mr. Weasley. You almost sounded like a bigot." Harry noticed briefly he had more attention than he would usually like, but he wasn't going to back down on this.

"But they're-" Ron started to say.

"I don't care." Harry interrupted bluntly. "Even if she was the direct descendent of Morgan le Fey, I will judge her on her own merits and actions as I have with anyone, regardless of their House affiliation. The House system of this school is frankly quite appalling in how dated it is. It breeds contempt, dissention, bigotry, and that is a shame in my opinion. Give me the Hufflepuffs, the Gryffindors, the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws. I care not for House affiliation so long as they come to me with respect, not for some title I earned as a child that I have no reason to have, but instead because it is the courteous thing to do in return for the respect I give. Good day Mr. Weasley."

Harry stood up and gathered his things before leaving the Great Hall, throwing up his Deathly Aura higher and higher as he went to force people to look away. Such bigotry thoroughly pissed him off. Not because of what it was, but instead what it bred. Division like that would slowly lead to attacks and bullying.

If truth be told, bullying was probably one of the biggest things that pissed Harry off more than anything else.

Harry moved down to the dungeons, hoping to sit in the Potions classroom for a while and let his anger slowly leak off of him. He eventually got down to the classroom and tested the door, noting that it was locked. He tried to think rationally about it and came to the conclusion that the Professor, Severus Snape according to the upper years, didn't want students brewing potions unsupervised.

Harry could respect that.

So he stayed leaned beside the door, going through his breathing exercises. One by one, he counted his inhales. If he had the time, he'd go for a run. He couldn't let his anger cloud him when he ran. It was dangerous not to be thinking on the then and now of his runs. All it took was not enough energy to push himself across a gap and he could end up flat on his back.

Or on his chest or even worse given that he was slowly building up the strength and stamina he had to run with. He missed one of the landings and he'd fall until he hit the ground floor. Still, he believed in himself enough to pull it off.

Finally, Harry's deathly aura began to lower as his anger relaxed and ebbed away. Just in time too as the other First year Ravenclaws and the First year Hufflepuffs were coming down the corridor. They chatted in groups, but generally left Harry alone. They were the more conservative of the Four Houses at Hogwarts after all, so they didn't want to go rocking the boat like Ron had done.

The door opened and a man with a hook nose and greasy looking hair in black billowing robes looked out. "Enter." He said with a sneer before turning on his heel to walk towards the front of the classroom.

Harry slowly led the way in, making his way to the nearest empty workstation. His eyes flitted about, taking in the state of the potions workshop. He noted how it seemed dirty, like it hadn't been cleaned in a while. There were various reagents around that Harry worked to identify. Most didn't come to him, but he noted the basic ones.

"There will be no silly wand waving or incantations in this classroom." Snape said as the door shut behind the last of the students. "You are here to learn the subtle art of Potion making, unless you're like the usual batch of Dunderheads I have to work with."

Snape began to go through the roll, pausing at Harry's name with an even more twisted sneer. He glanced to Harry. "Mr. Potter, our newest famous celebrity." Snape said before continuing on with the rest of the roll.

And it was like that that Harry's anger flared viciously back up once more. This man had already singled Harry out, not on Harry's merits or anything but on his own preconceptions about Harry. Harry could feel his anger building and with it his Deathly Aura. Dust tried to comfort Harry with a few silent flutters, but the problem was that Harry's anger was fueling Dust's.

A hand on his bicep brought him out of his anger. He glanced to his right to see a Hufflepuff girl with red hair and crystal blue eyes looking to him. She was slightly pale, making the light dusting of freckles on her cheek stand out, Ms. Bones if Harry remembered correctly. He inclined his head to her just slightly, a silent thanks for drawing him out of the fury that was steadily blinding him.

Just in time for Snape to finish up roll too.

"I am here to teach you the subtle arts of Potion brewing." Snape reiterated from early. "I can teach you to brew glory, bottle fame, and even put a stopper on Death." The man spoke with an obvious affection of his art. He looked over the assembled students. "If you're not the usual Dunderheads I'm stuck with, you will find that Potion brewing is a lucrative art. But there are some of you that perhaps need to learn to pay attention." Snape's eyes were solely on Harry who was watching the man while taking notes with one hand.

"Potter, tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?" Snape asked moving over to Harry, almost looming over him.

Harry's Deathly Aura was building again. He saw some frost actually spreading from the moisture on the walls at his very palpable anger. "Draught of the Living Death, the most powerful sleeping potion Professor." Harry answered.

"And where would I look to find a Bezoar?" Snape asked.

This only made Harry's anger build. These were not first year questions and it was only because he had seen Tom the barman of the Leaky Cauldron use a Bezoar on a patron that drank too much. "In the stomach of a goat, sir. It's capable of curing most poisons, including alcohol poisoning."

"Tell me, what the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane is?" the Professor asked.

"They're the same plant which also goes by the name of Aconite. It's most popular use is in the Wolfsbane potion that gives some reprieve for Lycanthropes." Harry said. He barely registered Susan shivering beside him slightly from the frosty air around him.

"And where would I find Boomslang Skin, Potter?" Snape asked.

"I'd assume from skinning a Boomslang." Harry said, already getting irritated at the harder and harder questions. He just barely knew the first three questions.

"And how would I adjust Gillyweed for the use of Salt water?" the Potions Master asked.

"Perhaps growing it with salt water instead of fresh water." Harry gripped his thigh under the desk. He was grateful for the bulky robes in that moment so that Snape couldn't see his arm trembling with the urge to lash out.

"Tsk, tsk. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it Mr. Potter? Five points from Ravenclaw." Snape said moving to sweep away.

"You know what?" Harry barked out, standing up with enough force his chair fell back. He didn't care anymore. "I refuse to sit here and be belittled by an arrogant man with a very clear and obvious Vendetta against me for something I did not do." Harry said as he gathered his things into his bag, "I will not allow the money my parents spent on a premium education go to waste because of you." Harry glared at Snape. There was nothing he could learn in the classroom that he couldn't learn outside it.

Harry began to make his way towards the dungeon door when he felt something pressing in on his shields. Dust cawed angrily and launched from Harry's shoulder and at Snape. In flight, Dust lengthened and thinned out as he shot at Snape. Snape just barely got out of the way of Dust who pierced a solid brick wall, a black arrow formed where the Crow had been.

Harry whirled on the man. "Don't you ever dare try invading my mind again!" Harry roared out. He was getting sick and tired of people attempting his shields. "So help me, I should be pressing charges. But instead, I will never willingly step foot in any class that calls you Professor. I do not have the time to be dealing with you in court. Dust, come!" Harry then walked out with Dust making his way over to the young Rider's shoulder.

Harry was furious as he stalked out of the dungeons. He had a headache from his anger and the draw on his magic, Snape's assault not helping in the matter. He needed to learn potions though. He was fascinated by them and he didn't want his education lacking in the matter. But Snape's blatant disregard for rules and conduct had infuriated him and put him off to learning them.

It meant he needed a different instructor for Potions.

Harry punched a wall just as he came out of the dungeons. His fury ebbed a bit when pain lanced through his hand. Punching stone was definitely not the best way to do it, but the pain did help center and focus him for a moment.

Frankly, he didn't know the sort of protocol regarding getting a tutor for a subject, if there was even precedence for it. All Harry knew was that he was not stepping foot in Snape's classroom ever again.

A throb brought Harry's attention to his hand and he sighed, seeing he had busted open the skin. He cupped his hand with the other and headed off for the infirmary. It would probably be best to get it taken care of right away.

He entered the infirmary to see that it was mostly empty except for the school nurse busying herself by brewing some potions. Harry blinked a moment, surprised at the sight until he remembered that a Healer needed at least NEWT level potions. He had looked into it for a career path but eventually decided against it.

The woman turned to look at Harry and her lips thinned a bit when she saw his hand. "Sit." She ordered, pointing to one of the beds.

Harry nodded and moved over to the bed and sat down, still cupping his hand. The nurse came over and took his hand in both of hers, inspecting the damage. "It's Madam Pomfrey, Mr. Potter. Now… I've seen this type of injury before, do I need to expect someone coming in with quite the bruising and breakage on their face?"

Harry blinked a moment. "No, Madam Pomfrey." Harry said after a moment. He saw her eyes turn sharp as she looked up from his hand to his own eyes. "I punched a wall." Harry explained quickly.

Pomfrey nodded after a moment. "Yes, I suppose that would also do it." She said and moved away. She got a bowl and a small bottle of a viscous green fluid. She poured it into the bowl and brought it over. 'Essence of Murtlap, it'll sting but it will help heal and clean the cuts. I'll bandage your hand properly."

Harry nodded and plunged his hand into the bowl. He winced slightly as it did in fact sting. Dust cawed slightly from his shoulder. "Thank you Dust, and thank you Madam Pomfrey."

The nurse waved his thanks away and moved to another cabinet. She pulled out one potion that looked like the blue they coated candy with. A second one that was a sickly green color soon joined it, and a third that was dark red, like blood, joined those two. She then immediately brought them over. "I know you have been living with your Muggle Relatives the past ten years, Mr. Potter, so I am not sure you're up to date on your inoculations. You will drink all three of these."

Harry grimaced, hearing the tone in her voice. "Yes Ma'am." He said. It was all he could think to say as she passed him the first. He knocked it back as quickly as he could, the thick substance being difficult to swallow and the taste horrendous. The green one went down easier but it did not taste any better. The last one was somewhere in the middle and thankfully tasted somewhat like mint, so it was easier. "Blech."

Pomfrey lifted his hand from the bowl of the Essence of Murtlap. She then bandaged it properly. She waved her wand over it, double checking everything. "A hairline fracture." She said and tapped her wand against his hand. "There, all healed."

Harry watched the nurse as she went back to brewing a potion. "Why did you think I had hit someone Madam Pomfrey?" It was not a nice feeling that someone was casting judgment on him without even meeting him.

"I was the nurse of Hogwarts when your father was here Mr. Potter." She said as she started to chop. "And I was worried that you would follow in his footsteps. At times, it wasn't so bad. Harmless pranks like a firework in a toilet. Other times… Other times he and his friends got physical with their victims. He'd range from a prankster that could run with the Weasley Twins on their best day while he was at his worst, to a bully that was vicious in his attacks. Albus… most of the time Albus wrote off their bullying as harmless school yard pranks." She shook her head. "I was the one that had to console and treat the victims of your father's pranks."

Harry frowned a moment, thinking about what she was saying about his father. His father was a bully, the very thing he loathed so greatly? "Was he a bad person?" he asked softly.

"Hmm… that's a little tricky to say." Madam Pomfrey said as she stirred the potion some more. "I think he genuinely thought everything was a little prank, except for the times he got vicious in retaliation against someone. One time, he had changed a girl's tie into spiders, even though she was absolutely terrified of them. He had no way of knowing that she had been attacked by an acromantula which turned her arachnophobia into the stuff of nightmares. He was cocky, brash, spoiled, and waltzed around like he owned the place." She said bluntly. "But was he a genuinely bad person? No, no I don't think he was a bad person. He did save a student's life once. But that's not my story to tell."

Harry nodded and sat on the bed a little while longer, realizing that what Madam Pomfrey had said changed his perception of his father. James Potter was humanized really by what she said. There was good, and there was bad. Just like any other person.

"Now, which class do you need to get back to?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Anger rushed through his veins, but he kept it under control. He was not going to lash out at this woman. "I will not be heading back to that man's classroom. Snape is hardly fit to be teaching." Harry said gripping his hand tightly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded and sighed. "I have met many a good student who ended up having their dreams crushed by that man. I warned Albus that he needed to rein Severus in."

"I would like to ask you to teach me Potions." Harry said after a moment.

Madam Pomfrey turned to look at Harry and arched a brow. "Why?" she asked.

"I absolutely refuse to return to Snape's classroom, no matter what he is teaching." Harry stated bluntly. "I do not give second chances freely, they must be earned and Snape's antics in the classroom have quite solidly ruined his chances of earning one, because I know he has no intention of attempting to earn a second chance.

"As a healer, you had to have at least NEWT level Potions and passed. The fact you're here at Hogwarts tells me you did better than passed, you passed with an Outstanding. You wouldn't be trusted to treat students unless you did. A teacher does not need a Mastery in their subject if they get an Outstanding at NEWT level for the course they're teaching.

"I still need to learn how to brew potions. I refuse to let my knowledge of magic have such a massive gaping hole in it because of one man. At the same time, you get a sort of assistant. When you're having to brew complex potions for the needs of the Hospital wing, such as Draught of the Living Death which can be used to put a patient in a medical coma, I can be brewing the simpler potions you need and have run out on. I expect most of it will be self-study because you will be busy with your work, but I still need someone there to offer a guiding hand." In the short amount of time he had been there, Harry had given it plenty of thought.

Madam Pomfrey watched him and then nodded. "Get your things set up." She said.

Harry quickly set to work, getting his tools and equipment lined up so that it was in easy reach of his spot. He then saw a cauldron other than his own float over to him, along with cleaning supplies. "Clean it." Madam Pomfrey said.

"But it's already spotless." Harry said, looking inside the Cauldron.

"Did you see it cleaned?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"No."

"First rule of brewing potions, unless you've cleaned you're equipment personally, don't trust it." She said. "The last thing any brewer needs is for some residue of a previous potion to be on the bottom or even under the lip of the cauldron. Potions don't always mix too well. You could brew a Draught of Living Death for me, it could look like it, smell like it, even taste like it, but if some potion like… a Pepper Up Potion, got mixed in with it, the Draught of Living Death suddenly becomes a lethal poison that a Bezoar would not even help." She pointed her wand at the cauldron. "So clean Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and he proceeded to check everything, making sure it was actually clean. He cleaned everything before he started to scrub the cauldron, pushing up the sleeves of his robes as he worked. He could understand why Madam Pomfrey had chosen this as the first lesson. Potion safety was an issue that needed to be taught.

He scrubbed for a long while, taking his time to wipe out any soapy residue and rinse it clean before patting it dry. It took him about forty-five minutes just to clean the cauldron. "I'm done." Harry said and put the brush down beside the cauldron.

Pomfrey glanced over at him. "Do it again. You trusted the water to be perfectly clean." She said. "There are minerals and such that can throw off your potion. You could end up shipping this potion elsewhere, where the tapped water is treated differently. Chemicals and bacteria could make a person sick. Your water must be thoroughly boiled and purified."

Harry simply nodded and set to work. He boiled the water again. He knew that Madam Pomfrey was going to be a demanding and precise teacher to work under by this. But it was better to get it all out of the way on the first day than to cause an accident. "Can I trust my potion ingredients?" he asked.

"It would be preferable if you picked your own. However, reputable stores, such as the one in Diagon Alley where I'm assuming you got your supplies, are safe to use. Just double check everything before you use it. Does it need rinsed off? Does it need thrown out because it's old? Always double, and triple check everything Mr. Potter, there is no room for error in Potion making, most of the time you're doing something to help somebody."

Even hurting someone needed an absolute precision. Harry had never really thought of these things before when he had found an interest in Potions. So, with all this in mind, Harry began to continue scrubbing the cauldron once more. He was certain that he was going to learn a safety tip every lesson.

Finally, Harry patted the inside dry once more. "I'm done again." He said.

Madam Pomfrey glanced over and nodded. "Potion brewers often use the Charm Augamenti to supply the water. It is always pure and clean." She held out a slip of parchment to Harry. "Give that to Fillius and he'll teach you the charm. I'm afraid I've arrived at the part of my own potion that requires the most attention. Now off with you Mr. Potter."

Harry accepted the slip of parchment and gathered his things up. "Thank you." He said before he headed out of the Hospital Wing to figure out what he was going to do now. He had quite enjoyed scrubbing the cauldrons for an hour and a half over the ten minutes he spent in the dungeons with Snape.

Chapter End

A/N: Sorry about the delay folks. I got caught up on the beginning and had to rework it a few times. We'll see some more repercussions next chapter, along with a meeting with the Goblins.

Adios.


	5. Book 1: Chapter 5

_Last Time: Harry mingles with a Slytherin during Transfiguration class and he defends his position vehemently against Ron. During a disastrous Potions lesson, Harry is singled out by Severus Snape and asked questions no first year should be able to answer. After an assault on his mind, Harry swears never to return to a classroom Snape is teaching. Eventually, the young Potter Heir finds a Potions Tutor in the form of Madam Pomfrey, the School's Healer. _

Book One: Death

Chapter 5

Harry was unsurprised when the summons came for him to meet the Headmaster shortly before Dinner. Undoubtedly the old man wanted to speak with Harry regarding his decision to not attend the classes of Severus Snape, that and the attack from Dust on Snape.

Of course, personally he thought that Dust should have skewered Snape through the forehead for his assault. Even still, Harry had caused the History of Magic teacher to pass on. Causing a second member of the faculty to no longer be able to work would likely just cause problems in and of itself.

So, Harry waited and then went to fetch Professor Flitwick. He was all caught up on his homework, having had plenty of time to write the essay for McGonagall once he was done with Madam Pomfrey. He would probably review it twice and have an older student look it over before he had to turn it in.

Harry politely knocked on Flitwick's office door and heard the squat professor tell him to enter. Harry entered, glancing around the office again. No matter how many times he looked upon it, it was quite the lovely office. "Professor, I hate to interrupt you, but the Headmaster has summoned me again." Harry said. Twice in the opening week of school, it had to be a new record.

Flitwick stood up and moved over. "Then let us make haste so that we may make it in time for supper, shall we?"

"Of course." Harry said and walked beside his Head of House. "Professor, are you aware of the events that this is likely about?"

"You mean your tiff with Severus that resulted in your familiar attacking him and you leaving his classroom to never enter another class he teaches ever again?" Flitwick asked. "Yes, I've heard about that. What happened?"

"Mr. Snape," Harry said with all due appropriate venom, "Singled me out of the entire class, asked questions well above the reading of a First Year, and decided to mock me when I didn't know two out of the five questions he asked. Then, when I say I refuse to stay in a classroom with a poor excuse of a teacher, he decided to attempt to mind rape me. Dust took offense. I'm even willing to swear to that upon a Wizard's oath." Harry said as he gently brushed his fingers along Dust's head.

Flitwick paused a moment in his walk before he started to walk more determinedly. His shoulders were squared and his legs carried him quickly. Harry was quite acutely reminded that a wizard could still be a dueling champion, even well into their eighties like Flitwick was.

Dumbledore was even surprisingly spry for a man pushing a hundred and twenty. Harry had a theory that the man's magic helped him with that, which would explain why he was so powerful.

Flitwick didn't even pause before the Gargoyle. "Lemon Drops." He said with authority without breaking stride. The Gargoyle quickly moved out of the way, admitting both Head of House and student. Flitwick flicked his wand at the door and it shot open with a bang.

Flitwick strode in and his wand slashed through the air. "Expelliarmus, Incarcerous!" he chained them both together, striking the man waiting in the room. Harry entered at the first spell, seeing as Snape was disarmed and bound.

"Fillius, what is the meaning of this?!" Dumbledore asked rising from his seat.

"Severus Snape, if you ever assault one of my students ever again, his familiar attacking you will be the least of your problems when I am challenging you to a dual and ripping your tongue out from your mouth!" Flitwick said, holding his wand trained on Severus' bound form. "And you, Albus! You have the same warning as Severus!" Flitwick pointed his wand at the Headmaster. "Mr. Potter seemed to let go your attempt at assault on his mind during your first meeting with him, so I let it go as well. A second attempt, from either of you, will not go unpunished!"

"What lies has that boy been spouting now?" Snape snarled, trying to get to his wand so he could release his restraints.

"Lies are they Severus?" Flitwick asked. "And would you be willing to swear a Wizard's Oath that you did not provoke Mr. Potter? That you didn't attempt Legilimency on Mr. Potter and that his familiar responded to the threat?"

Harry wanted to yank the knife strapped to his left forearm out of its sheath and cut Snape's tongue out for calling him a liar. He omitted details, yes, but he never told an outright lie. If someone were to ask him point blank if he was the Pale Rider, Death of the Apocalypse, he would tell them honestly that he was. He hated lying that much.

"Perhaps we could all calm down." Dumbledore said in an even tone. "We can all have a seat and discuss this civilly." Dumbledore's phoenix gave a trilling note that was obviously meant to calm them.

"Professor." Harry said, putting a hand on Flitwick's shoulder. "Thank you." He said.

Flitwick moved his wand away from Snape and quickly conjured two chairs for both himself and Harry. His wand flicked through the air a second time and a table was quickly conjured. "Tippy!" he called out.

Harry was surprised when a creature with bat like ears and large tennis ball sized eyes popped in beside Flitwick. It was no larger than his Head of House. "Master Flitwick called?" It asked in a squeaky voice.

"Yes, please bring Mr. Potter and myself some of my personal brew, along with some biscuits." Flitwick said.

The creature bowed and popped away as quickly as it had come. Harry stared blinking slowly at where it had stood. "What… what was that?" he asked.

"That, Mr. Potter, was a House-Elf. They live to serve." Flitwick said calmly. "Think of them as house keepers, cooks, gardeners, and servers."

Harry nodded and quickly took his seat in the chair that Flitwick had graciously provided him.

"I could have supplied refreshments Fillius." Dumbledore said, motioning to the tea set with what were undoubtedly fresh biscuits to go with it.

"I'm sure you could have Albus, except for two things. One, I am angry and I want something a little stronger. Two, after your attack on Mr. Potter's mind during our last session, I am less likely to believe you won't try something even more underhanded like potions."

"Fillius!" Dumbledore said sounding completely appalled at the notion of using a potion on a student. "I would never attempt to do something so underhanded."

"Then I will only appear as paranoid as Mad-Eye." Flitwick said quite calmly.

Harry sat in silence, noticing the battle of wills going on. Flitwick wasn't going to back down, not from Snape who was finally unbound and sitting in a chair that Dumbledore conjured. Flitwick wasn't going to back down from Dumbledore either, no matter what platitudes the old man offered. It was a rather surprising thing to watch.

Harry wondered briefly if this was a feeling of loyalty.

It was such an alien concept to him. Not a bad one, no, but it was an unknown. Dust was with him because he was the familiar of the Pale Rider. Rotgut was with him because there was profit to be had as the Potter Account Manager.

Flitwick though… There was no profit to be had; he was not bound to Harry. So where did such loyalty come from? Was it just because Harry was a member of Flitwick's house? Did he expect something in return? Thoughts raced through Harry's mind, trying to decipher the motives behind the diminutive Professor.

The House Elf popped back in carrying a tray of the strong tea and quickly poured out two cups. The House Elf then popped out.

Harry added some cream and sugar to his before bringing it to his lips to drink.

"Harry, that's some rather strong tea." Dumbledore warned.

Harry looked to the man over the lip of the cup before he drank down a hearty amount of the tea, much to the amusement of Flitwick who began to chuckle. "Professor Flitwick has served me this brew before during our meeting and I found I quite like it." Harry said quite calmly before he placed his cup down on the table between him and Flitwick. "And I still have not given you leave to use such a familiar tone with me. It is still Mr. Potter to you."

"My apologies then Mr. Potter. I had just wanted to warn you." Dumbledore said, giving a warning glance to Snape who looked as though he had wanted to say something. "Perhaps you would like to give an account to what transpired during Potions today?" he asked.

Harry took another drink of tea and then tried one of the biscuits, enjoying the taste of it as he pondered a little bit. "Not really." He said quite simply. "But I will anyways because I doubt I will leave this room unless I do." He glanced over to Snape for a moment before looking to Dumbledore's eyes. "Mr. Snape-" Harry began.

"Professor Snape." Dumbledore corrected.

"_Mister_ Snape," Harry emphasized, refusing to give the man the respect of that station.

"Now Mr. Potter, Professor Snape is a teacher of Hogwarts. We must afford him the respect due to that title." Dumbledore said.

"He is no teacher or Professor of mine and as such I will not afford him the respect of that title." Harry said firmly. "Nor will he ever be a teacher of mine so long as I have the free will to do anything regarding it."

"You are fighting a losing battle Albus." Flitwick said after taking a sip of his own tea. "Because I will stand behind Mr. Potter's decision to seek his Potions Education from someone else."

"Once again, people are pandering to Potter's fame. I merely treated the boy like any other student." Snape said.

"Mr. Snape's comment makes me truly wonder if I shouldn't get the Department of Magical Law Enforcement involved, if not at the very least the Board of School Governors." Harry said and watched as Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Asking five questions that are blatantly above the reading level of even the most studious of First years and taking points off when they're wrong, then assaulting that student's mind with the Legilimens Curse. If this is how he treats any other student, then I truly do wonder…" Harry said wondering if it would indeed be better to get some form of authority involved in this matter.

Dumbledore looked quite shocked and turned to stare at Snape for a long moment. "And what do you have to say for yourself Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course the boy is lying!" Snape said standing from his chair.

Dust cawed at the man and Harry's aura flared up. He could see his half-finished cup of tea quickly cooling. "I am not lying!" Harry snapped. "And I am willing to swear a Wizard's Oath on my version of events that I am not lying. I was willing to let this matter lie, but given your incessant behavior, I shall be pressing charges." Harry stood up and turned to leave.

"Please, Harry, you must give people a second chance." Dumbledore pleaded. "This needn't go to the courts. If you just return to Professor Snape's class, you could see this."

Harry snarled at this suggestion and turned to face Dumbledore. "I will not be returning to his class under any circumstances, not of my own free will. I do not give Second chances freely. They must be earned, and there is never a third chance. By his assault on my mind, Mr. Snape has forfeited any chance of having a second chance. You're lucky that I'm not pressing charges against _you_. I've had my mind assaulted three times in the first week alone!"

"Then at least tell us what charges you plan to press." Dumbledore said, pleading really. "I need to know how bad it will be."

"No, Mr. Snape will know what charges are being pressed when they are being served by an Auror." Harry said before finally leaving Dumbledore's office, his anger gripping him again. He desperately needed to learn to control that better.

"If I were you Albus, I would watch myself around young Mr. Potter." Flitwick said. "He is already proving himself to be quite the force to be reckoned with."

-_Scene Break_-

Harry was eating breakfast the next day, pointedly ignoring everyone around him. It wasn't that he didn't like anyone. But he didn't like discussing trivial matters. He couldn't care about Quidditch the way some others did. However, this was also a social hour. They shouldn't be talking about class work either.

Harry's thoughts were brought out by the sudden hooting of mail. A regal looking snowy owl came to land before him. It bore the harness of a Gringotts owl. It stuck its leg out patiently, holding itself tall and proud. Harry untied the letter from the owl and watched it take off.

He opened the letter and quickly scanned through the contents before he reread it in more depth when he felt as though he was missing something. The phrase '_Gringotts requests your presence at your earliest convenience' _set alarm bells off in his mind. Harry quickly stood up and gathered his things. "Dust, come." He said and the crow abandoned the toast to fly over to Harry's shoulder.

Harry strode up to the Staff table; more specifically he went to Professor Flitwick. 'Sir, I just received this." Harry said, offering Flitwick the letter. "And it's been iterated to me that when Gringotts says at my earliest convenience, they really mean right now."

Harry was surprised when Flitwick's eyes just briefly glanced through the letter before he passed it back. He didn't pry into Harry's financial business. "Very well Mr. Potter. If you'll follow me, you can Floo over from my office." Flitwick leapt from his chair and began to lead off.

Harry saw from the corner of his eye that Dumbledore looked to want to say something, but chose not to. It was probably the smartest thing Dumbledore had done since Harry arrived at Hogwarts regarding Harry.

"Have you ever travelled by Floo Powder before Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked as he got the pot of the grey ash like powder from the mantle of his fireplace.

"No Sir, any help would be beneficial." Harry said as he stepped forward.

Flitwick drew his wand and quickly changed Harry's robes to resemble something more formal than his school robes. "Take a pinch. Many will make the mistake of taking a handful and it will cause them to go much faster. So take a pinch, throw it into the fire and speak your destination very clearly, slowly if you have to. Then walk through. Upon the exit, I want you to give a bit of hop; it will keep you from shooting out onto your rump."

Harry took a pinch of the powder. "Will Dust be safe going through with me?" Harry asked.

"Of course Mr. Potter. Good luck." Flitwick said.

Harry inhaled deeply. He threw the powder into the flames and watched them roar to emerald green. "The Leaky Cauldron, London." Harry said in as strong and firm a voice he could. He was nervous about this actually. He stepped through carefully and felt it suck him through.

Harry felt his feet fall out from under him and the feeling of sliding through the blackness. He glanced around him, only seeing blackness. He was on something solid, that much he knew. He wasn't racing through it either, but he was moving quickly, fast enough that he would have to full on sprint to keep up if his feet were the method of transport.

Harry saw a light, edged with green, coming up. While on his back, he tried to push himself up to his feet just before he got to it. He passed through to the Leaky Cauldron and stumbled a bit as he went through the grate. He wasn't on his ass though.

Dust cawed angrily before flying up towards the rafters. It was clear the animal did not like the magical transport.

Harry noticed most of the occupants of the Inn weren't focused on him. He quickly drew his hood up, thankful that Flitwick had kept it after changing his robes. He quickly brushed himself off of the dust and soot.

"Just use ya wand lad." Tom said finally taking notice to Harry.

"Don't know how." Harry said as he moved over towards Tom.

"Lad ya back!" Tom said quite surprised.

"Tom, I'm trying to be incognito here." Harry said, unsurprised Tom remembered him.

Tom took his wand out and used it to remove the dust and soot remaining on Harry's robes. "I'll get ya my book on the charms John." Tom said with a slight wink.

Harry smiled gratefully and passed a few gold coins to Tom. "I have some business to attend to. It could be a few hours." Harry then moved towards the entrance to the Alley and used his wand. He then began to walk down the road with Dust settling on his shoulder.

Harry paused at the entrance to a dark and shadier part of Diagon Alley. A place, if the sign was correct, was called Knockturn Alley. He was getting a feeling from down there. A feeling of belonging, like something of his was down in that dark alley.

Dust cawed and Harry reminded himself that it was necessary to go to Gringotts first.

Harry continued down to the ivory building and entered through the golden doors. He headed towards the first available teller he saw. It wasn't during the summer months, so there was less business of withdraws being made from Gringotts so it was easier to find an open teller.

"If you could tell Account Manager Rotgut that I am here for our meeting, I await him at his earliest convenience." Harry told the teller before moving away to sit down.

Harry focused hard, trying to keep the feel of the foul magic out of his mind. He was constantly being bombarded by the sensations at the school, but this one felt older, more powerful. It didn't make much sense to Harry, at the moment, but he would get to the bottom of things.

"Mr. Potter, I'm glad you could come." Harry's eyes opened to see Rotgut. "If you would kindly follow me, we have some pressing business to attend to."

Harry rose from his seat and began to follow behind Rotgut to his office once more. Inside was another Goblin who had a bald head with what looked like a piece of metal bolted to it with the skin roughly attached to the metal to try and make it mesh. He also had a long beard that tucked into the belt of his suit like some sort of twisted tie. "Mr. Potter," The new goblin rasped, its voice even rougher than Rotgut's. "I am the Black Family Account Manager Ironskull, Chief Strategist of the Iron Clan, and Sire to the Chieftain of the Iron Clan."

"Harry James Potter, Scion of House Potter and Avatar of Death." Harry recognized what Ironskull had done, asking for Harry's trust by giving his name, so Harry returned it. This Goblin wouldn't be there if he didn't have some sort of business.

Ironskull nodded. "I thank you for your trust in this matter Mr. Potter. It has come to my attention that you have taken an active role as the Scion of House Potter, working to bring the assets and monies out of stasis and flowing once more."

"I have." Harry said as he took his seat beside the Goblin. "However, and forgive me for my impertinence, but I don't believe that's any of the business of the Black Family Account Manager." Harry said.

Ironskull gave a harsh sounding cackle of a laugh. "Oh Rotgut, you lucky little bastard, you got quite lucky with this one. He gets business quite well and understands how Goblins think." Ironskull took a moment to compose himself. "Sirius Orion Black is your God Father Mr. Potter and he had made you his heir when you were born. Shortly after Halloween of 1981, Sirius Orion Black was chucked into Azkaban Prison."

"Then did he die?" Harry asked. He had never met the man, and so he felt nothing for him if he did die. He didn't even recognize the name.

"Hardly," Ironskull said. "Someone from the Department of Wills would have informed you instead. Before the brat's third year of Hogwarts, Sirius ran away and was disowned by his mother Walburga Black. I still handled his account and finances because I liked the brat more than his mother, but that's the backstory. Sirius was placed in Azkaban, and his mother reintegrated him into the family tree once more when it came out he killed twelve Muggles and a Wizard. When Walburga died about five years ago, the account went into stasis and the title of Heir Black should have passed down to Draco Malfoy, the eldest Black male through Sirius' cousin Narcissa Malfoy nee Black.

"This didn't happen." Ironskull said flatly. "The title of _Baron_ Black of Blackmoor passed instead onto Sirius. This shouldn't have happened. When he was put into Azkaban, he should have been stripped of all titles by Magic itself."

"How could such a thing happen?" Harry asked quite curiously. Something was bugging him about the situation.

"Frankly Mr. Potter? We at Gringotts are at as much a loss as you are." Ironskull said. "But figuring out this mishap and what it means is not why we called you here today. Remember how I said that Sirius has named you his Heir? Well, Scion of House Potter, you are also entitled as Scion of House Black and with everything that comes with being the Heir."

Harry groaned softly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let me guess the rest. Since I've been getting the monies in the Potter vaults moving once more, making money for Gringotts Bank, I am wanted to get the monies in the Black Vaults moving as well after five years of stasis, making money for Gringotts Bank as well."

"Right in one Mr. Potter. You also have a trust vault of Ten Thousand Galleons in the Black Family name." Ironskull said with a wicked smirk at Harry seemingly grasping it so easily. "You'll also be needed to check the status of the Black Family houses as well."

Harry nodded. "I was planning with Master Rotgut to tour the Potter estates during Christmas. Shall I see you then as well Master Ironskull?"

"I will schedule the appointments and then send them to you. Do you wish for a separate transfer box for the Black Family paperwork?" Ironskull asked.

"Yes, please. It would be best if I didn't mix it with the Potter family accounts." Harry said pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to think. "Also, I would like to withdraw twenty-five hundred galleons from the Black trust vault, and then move the rest to my personal vault."

"You have a personal vault?" Ironskull asked with a wicked grin. 'Very intelligent Mr. Potter. There is no limit on a personal vault, but trust vaults have account limits."

"There is also another matter." Harry said. "I would like to look into buying property that I can stay at during the summer if I am not pleased with the Black or Potter family homes, or if they need work that might take a while. My Head of House recommended to looking at property in Hogsmeade so I might be able to skip the train ride to school completely."

Rotgut took notes down on a parchment. "We'll look into it and send you a list of the top ten, as well as something from Hogsmeade if something is available." He said.

"Thank you Master Rotgut. Now, I have a question. Can the Goblins retrieve an object from the Muggle World for me?" Harry asked.

"Of course Mr. Potter, what is it that you need?" Rotgut asked.

"I need a parachute." Harry said bluntly. "And I need the know how to use it without having to attend a class."

"It… can be done." Rotgut said jotting the notes down. "Unorthodoxly but it can be done. But whatever do you need a parachute for Mr. Potter?"

Harry stood up as the business was concluded. "Master Rotgut, a wise individual once told me never to ask a question that you really don't want to hear the answer to. Trust me when I say you don't want to know the answer."

-_Scene Break_-

With his hood up once more, Harry approached the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Before entering, he drew up his Deathly Aura, noting with interest that he could go further and further with less repercussions to his physical self. Of course, there was a slight mist drawing in as he began to descend the stairs, but that was just the chill of his aura.

Harry quickly found the reputation of Knockturn Alley for himself. It was a lawless area, where only the most hardened of souls would go willingly. Dark magic permeated the area like a sickening film covering everything. Prostitutes whored out their bodies, making lewd offers to any that passed by. Harry unstrapped the knife and allowed the handle to slide down into his hand. He wasn't going to go any deeper that he couldn't see the entrance to Diagon Alley without being armed.

And while his general repertoire of magical spells was laughable at the moment. He was confident in his ability to move and his ability to stab. Thankfully his aura, something that had been refined even more by his week at Hogwarts, allowed him to walk calmly and follow the taste of power that he was getting from the air.

He arrived at Borgin and Burkes, a small shop with darkly tinted windows. Harry slipped in, hearing the bell go off over head. No doubt a warning for the proprietor of the store. Harry completely ignored it and moved over to a case and looked in.

He found it quickly enough.

Inside, in the very center of black velvet, was a curled up ivory object. It looked like the vertebrae and skull of a snake, harmless in appearance and curled up quite neatly. There was a warning of some sort that warned it would kill anyone that touched it bare handed. Some fool labeled it as a whip, something that made Harry want to snort. That was as far from the truth as you could get while still having some semblance of fact.

The Harvester was a multi-purpose tool to assist Death in his duties. It was designed so that it could curl up around the forearm, with the upper skull portion of the weapon resting on the top of the hand. It was flexible, so it could in fact be used as a whip. But not only that, it could be used as a grappling hook, with the blade shooting out of the skull to allow it to dig into an object for someone. The tool could extend up to twelve feet in length; an impressive feat given it looked to be only about three feet curled up in the case.

And of course, it could extend and fold out to be the proper object that Death wielded. The skull would actually grow to proper size and the scythe blade would extend out from the top jaw running the length of the majority of the blade. It would always size itself to be a perfect fit for its wielder, no matter how tall or short they were.

If Harry got to be a seven foot tall giant of a man, the weapon would accommodate. If he was less than five feet, a dwarf of a Pale Rider really, it would also accommodate. The Harvester was the perfect tool for the Pale Rider.

And the fool had marked it for a mere thousand galleons.

"What do you want Brat?" A rude and grubby looking man asked, shuffling up beside Harry. "You'll never be able to afford anything from inside that case without asking Daddy first Brat."

"Do not be so certain." Harry said in as cold a voice as he could, which given he still had his aura up rather high was impressively cold. He tapped the glass on the object. "This is mine." Harry said.

"Bah! I've had dozens of people come in claiming the same thing Brat. If you want it, you have to buy it just like everyone else." The rude man said.

Harry turned to glare at the man, one emerald green eye showing underneath the shadow of his hood. "Fool, I would not make an idle boast. But, seeing as how you're a business man perhaps we could come to some sort of deal. I touch it with my bare hand; you slash the price in half." Harry said.

"And what do I get when you're dead and rotting up my store?" the man snarled. "Nothing of course. Nothing but a handful of Galleons from a braggart and his wand that I have to pawn at a pittance of what it's worth. Bah, fine. Your death will help charge the wards anyways." The man unlocked the case and stepped aside.

Harry sheathed his knife and unlaced the holster. He slipped it into his robes, not wanting to give up a good quality knife like that. He slid his hand over the Harvester, stroking the boney skull of the weapon. Immediately, it latched onto his arm, the bones rushing over his skin until the skull rested on the back of his left hand.

Harry turned to the rude man and held up his hand to show the Harvester. "See, completely fine."

The man looked in disbelief and narrowed his eyes. "It's still a thousand Galleons." He said.

Harry flared his aura higher, allowing his exposed hand to turn slightly skeletal. "Are you stupid you ignorant fool?" Harry asked with a snarl. However, he inhaled slowly. "Throw in every book on Death Magic in this store, and I'll give you twelve hundred galleons."

The man looked Harry over before shuffling away. It was obvious that since he didn't know what the item did on Harry's arm, he wasn't going to push his luck.

The man returned with a bundle of four black books that he put on the counter and shrank. Harry frowned a moment. Paying almost two hundred galleons a book was quite expensive to him. Harry looked up to the expectant eyes of the man. "I said every book." Harry said and felt the Harvester rise from his hand, letting off a rattling. The eye sockets began to glow green in response to his anger.

The man bolted away and eventually came back with another eight books that he made quick work of shrinking them. Harry gently pet the Harvester like it was alive and it settled back down on his hand. Dust cawed from his perch on Harry's shoulder.

Harry took great care counting out the twelve hundred galleons as he tucked the books away. He wouldn't be reading them for some time. Death Magic was, after all, banned from public reading and if the information got to Dumbledore, Harry could potentially very well be expelled.

Harry walked off, heading back towards the Leaky Cauldron. Personally, he didn't care what Dumbledore thought of Harry studying Death Magic. It was his right to study them after all. However, a thought gave him a pang of something, like remorse. He thought of Flitwick being disappointed and that actually hurt him.

Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron and passed off a few coins to Tom to use the Floo. "Here ya are Lad." Tom said, handing Harry a book on basic household charms that would help him get rid of dust and such.

Harry smiled gratefully as he moved to the fireplace. A pinch of Floo Powder and "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Charm's Office' later and Harry was off, speeding through the Floo Network. He gave a small hop but still ended up flat on his face in Flitwick's office, much to the man's humor.

Harry slowly stood up and quickly headed down for Dinner, having missed the entire day for his little excursion off to London. It was difficult to keep the Harvester hidden, at least until he got to his room.

Harry tucked his books away, as well as the Harvester in the most secured compartment of his trunk. Opening it the wrong way would actually end up having spikes thrown at the would be thief. He would do more with those later.

Harry laid himself down on his bed after changing into his pajamas. As he closed his eyes, a feeling rushed through him and he sat bolt upright, eyes wide.

A Necromancer was at Hogwarts.

End Chapter

A/N: So uh, yeah, story is chugging along quite nicely. Next chapter will be… interesting I think.

How do you guys like Death's Scythe?

See you next time!


	6. Book 1: Chapter 6

_Last Time: After a disastrous meeting with Dumbledore and Snape, Harry has decided to actually press charges against Severus Snape. The next day, he has an invite to Gringotts where he finds that he is also Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black through his Godfather, Sirius Black, who is a prisoner at Azkaban. He has also found the first of his Deathly Artifacts, the Harvester. On his return to Hogwarts, Harry has felt a Necromancer within the walls._

Book One: Death

Chapter 6

Harry sat in a chair before a fire place in Ravenclaw tower. He was attempting to read a book in his lap, but the fact of the matter was that he kept struggling with it. Not because he didn't understand it, but instead because he was just having difficulty focusing. His mind was in about a thousand different directions.

It had been three days since he had his meeting with Gringotts, four since he said he was pressing charges against Snape. Yet he was nowhere closer to achieving any of his goals since he had arrived because he always found himself getting bombarded with questions.

First, Harry still didn't know what was being guarded in the Third Floor corridor. The only reason he knew that there was something being guarded was because Ron and Hermione, more Ron really, had come and told him about the Cerberus standing on a trap door. A Cerberus was often used to guard things, what with the connotation of them guarding the entrance to the Underworld.

Second, Harry still hadn't found out the source of the Death Magic he felt that first morning. It was out of the way for him and would be tricky to explain why he was heading that way. He would have to go some night when he had more free time and take the Harvester with him just to be on the safe side. The grappling hook function would allow him to ascend to the seventh floor from the Grand staircase with ease.

Third, Harry still hadn't pressed charges against Snape. Not because he was afraid to, hardly. But it was someone intercepting the mail he was worried about. If all the owls were screened, and there was no telling if they were or not, then he didn't want to trust such an important letter to be released. And he wasn't going to risk some wizard hitting Ashes with a spell either.

Fourth, was the Necromancer. Harry had felt such excitement that night. Necromancers were, according to Dust, always welcomed by Death. Their Death Magic usually empowered the Pale Rider and made him stronger. Of course, the feeling of the magic was different from the foul Death Magic he was constantly sensing, so it meant the Necromancer was not only different, but they were a fledgling also. Harry _had_ to find them before the delved too deeply into the arts without someone to keep them from being killed. Necromancers were so rare.

Of course, another scenario was them being swayed away from delving into those arts. While not necessarily a bad thing, Necromancy was not evil magic as many would have the Wizarding Community believe. It was misunderstood. Granted, most Necromancers didn't exactly help with the image either.

His last agenda was, of course, regarding his brothers and or sisters. He hadn't really been able to work on that front. The most he had done was eliminate most of Ravenclaw house. He was sure that there were a few 'claws that he had skimmed over, but he was almost certain that none of the other Riders were in the House of the Intelligent.

Of course, he then had to work on the other Houses, but again his time was being eaten up by his studies as he delved a bit more into the general course work for the next few years. He was at year two with most things, and rereading it over and over again.

That wasn't to say there weren't upsides. For one, his workings with the Potter account, and now the Black account, were slowly coming together. He had changed a third of his personal vault into Muggle monies so that it could be invested in various Muggle companies much as his mother had done. There was profit to be had, and while he wasn't going to have financial security that he could buy whatever he wanted without lifting a finger, he wasn't going to have to work for someone else either to make his fortune.

Another thing was he had found a fascinating book called Tales of Beedle the Bard. While most of it was pure junk, with bare slivers of truth, the tale of the Death Hallows had brought his attention. Dust had even confirmed that the Hallows were very much real. Of course, no mere mortal could ever hope to become the Master of Death like the story said, but the Hallows were powerful pieces of Death Magic that, according to Dust, needed to come back to Death.

Harry was certain that the Elder Wand would reveal itself once more in due time. It always was at the center of bloody conflict. It had been the wand of Vlad the Impaler before he became Dracula. The cloak, Dust assured him, would come to him. He wasn't certain how the crow knew that the Invisibility Cloak would come back to him, but he was certain that Dust was correct. This left the Resurrection Stone. The stone did not pop up in and out of history the way the wand did, so that would be trickier to find.

Then of course, there were other artifacts of the Pale Rider, like the Harvester, that Harry still needed to find. The cowl, his gauntlet, and Despair were pretty much all that were left to find, but then again Harry was almost positive that when he found the other Riders, he would have to help them find their horses and artifacts.

War's equipment was probably going to be an absolute pain to get due to all the battle magic and battle enchantments on it. It would drive the wrong wearer mad with battle lust. Which, technically thinking about it, was actually the lightest punishment to using anything of the Riders. Harry's equipment Cowl would just kill the offender and steal their soul. War's would give anyone battle lust, literally fighting until their body was destroyed to a state that it could not be used by the armor anymore. Famine's would actually cause the wearer to starve, food and water would turn to ash in their mouth. Pestilence, or Plague as Dust said the two had been interchanged over the many incarnations, would literally begin to rot the body away, cause boils and sores, maggots would grow and rats would follow and feast on the person whenever they slept.

The enchantments placed on the objects were quite powerful.

"You look like shite Harry." Came a voice.

Harry looked up and closed the book he was going to just have to give up getting through this time. He watched the sandy blonde haired first year with brown eyes full of mischief sit down. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth Mr. Boot?" Harry asked. He liked Terry. There was a simplicity to him that made him easy to get along with, no matter the group of friends he was with.

"What she doesn't know won't hurt me Harry." Terry said with a grin. He had been enjoying the basic freedoms like that at Hogwarts a little much. "What's eating you?"

Harry sat back a little bit and rotated his neck. "So many things I have going on Mr. Boot. A good deal of them I'd rather not talk about, no offense to you. Of course, the gurgle from the gaggle of giggling girls over there is not helping me." Harry jerked his head to a group of older years talking about something Harry hadn't been really interested in to begin with.

Terry raised an eyebrow at the words. "Bit of fancy words to describe them isn't that?" he asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I saw an opportunity and used it. Besides, I thought it was a nice alliteration. What are they going on about anyways?"

"Divination classes. Apparently a prediction from the teacher came true." Terry said. "Of course, this is also the woman that every year she'll foretell a student's death, so I really don't see the reason to be excited myself. Especially since she's been wrong in the ten years she's been here, and that's figuring five years' worth of students also that she foretells. "

"So she's not really a Seer then?" Harry asked frowning. Why would they have a subject taught by a fraud? Why not drop it for a better course like Alchemy?

"Well, I didn't exactly say that." Terry said. "I've heard some upper years talking. They swear they've heard her slip into a sort of trance like state where her voice goes all gravely. She predicted a student getting injured, and they got injured in the exact manner she predicted, no matter what they did to stop it."

Harry frowned thoughtfully. That seemed more like a prediction rather than an actual prophecy. "And where is this class? I think I might want to go speak with the Professor. Maybe get some insight behind the Seer.' He said

"It's in the South Tower." Terry said.

Harry nodded. "If you're such a fountain of information Mr. Boot, I don't suppose you know how I can press charges against Mr. Snape without sending an owl out." Harry said.

Terry rubbed his chin a bit, as though thinking. "Well, you could ask Susan Bones of Hufflepuff." He said.

Harry blinked. "Ms. Bones?" Harry asked. He remembered the redhead from potions that managed to pull him from his anger, at least until Snape reignited it quite easily.

"Oh right, forget sometimes you've been out of touch with the Wizarding World. Susan's aunt is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or DMLE for short. If anyone can help you, it'd be Susan."

Harry nodded and stood up. "Thank you Mr. Boot, you've been most helpful." Harry said and put his book away on the shelf. Harry then headed out of the Ravenclaw Tower, which was the East tower.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry found himself under the South Tower, looking up at the ladder to the Divination classroom. Already, he could smell a strong smell of incense with an under hint of Sherry. He drew his hood up and used a bit of glamour magic on his robes to hide the Ravenclaw crest and color. It would be best not to be noticeable.

He drew upon his aura and began to ascend the ladder, pushing the trap door open slightly, glancing around. Since no one was inside the room except for the Divination Professor, he climbed up fully and allowed the trapdoor to shut.

The Divination teacher was shaking, holding her wand out. "I know who you are Pale Rider!" she said in a gravelly voice, tears streaming down her face. "And I will not let you take me! It is not my time!"

Harry found it fascinating. It seemed the Seer was actually able to tell who he was and it had forced her into a sort of trance. "Peace Seer, I am here in need of some information."

"I am not the one to help you in your quest." The Professor said, shaking, her wand threatening to shake out of her hand. "The one to help you will reveal herself. I cannot help you find the other Riders."

Harry frowned a moment. But he wasn't angry either. He had hoped for a bit of information on the other Riders and while what she said was useless to him in the long run, he knew that another Seer would reveal herself to help him in his quest.

Harry tapped his foot, thinking for a moment on how to turn the situation to his advantage. He wasn't going to kill the Seer. There was no point to that. "I need you to Scry an object for me." Harry finally said. He had the perfect idea.

The Professor's eyes seemed to roll into the back of her head. "The Stone, thrice turned to return those gone, it lies in the House of its Lord. Beware, an usurper has tainted the Stone. He believes he can Cheat that which cannot be Cheated. Beware Pale One, the Child of Cadmus can claim your Right. Though the Child of Ignotus has Won, the Child of Cadmus can still win."

Harry nodded his head as the Seer's eyes rolled back from gazing somewhere unseen. "As payment, Seer, I swear as the Horsemen of Death, I shall never darken your classroom ever again. You will not see me until it is your time." Harry felt the binding take place before he turned and opened the trapdoor.

He headed down, thinking about the riddle that the Seer had placed on him. He knew he was the 'Child of Ignotus' as the Potter family was descended from Ignotus Peverell. Dust had confirmed that much when talking about the Hallows. But the Child of Cadmus… That was where Harry was lost. Cadmus' line was believed to have been lost.

Harry raked a hand through his hair very slowly. He'd see if the Goblins would be willing to help him in his search for Cadmus' descendent. He shook his head and began to head on down to dinner.

-_Scene break-_

Harry found himself eating with his back to the Gryffindors that night for dinner. It allowed his eyes to begin scanning up and down the rows of Hufflepuffs chatting to themselves quite admirably. The house was a united front, and if Harry was honest with at least himself, he was impressed by it.

He really hoped that one of them was one of the Horsemen. Of course, at the moment he had that set to the side for a more pressing matter really. That pressing matter was of course looking for the person he was looking for.

It wasn't hard to find the redhead girl, laughing with a girl with blonde pigtails.

Harry finished his dinner and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He rose from his seat and moved over to the House of Badgers, moving past many of them who instantly began to watch him as though one of their own were threatened.

He paused beside Susan for a moment. "Ms. Bones? Might I have a word with you in private please?" Harry asked.

Harry saw the brief confusion and possible fear flitter across her eyes. Harry had, thus far, not really requested to speak with any student. He had not initiated contact with any of them. He had set his work, both financial and educational, before any social engagement. There had been rumors abound about him, that he frankly ignored. They would die down soon enough after all. However, despite all of this, Susan gave a brief nod. She wiped her mouth and stood.

"Sue, are you sure about this?" One of the older males asked. He looked to be about a fourth year student.

Susan smiled. "It's alright Cedric." She said before she looked to Harry. 'Lead the way?" she asked.

Harry inclined his head and began to lead the way out. He was aware of many sets of eyes on him throughout the main hall. He didn't care though. Although, Susan seemed to be fidgeting under the gazes of the other students.

Harry led them to the antechamber where they congregated on that first night, before they were sorted. Harry glanced up and down, making sure there were no portraits. He knew the Ghosts would not spy on him, they were too terrified of him to do so. But the portraits were another story. He nodded when he was satisfied.

Susan looked a little worried. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Checking for possible spies." Harry said rather bluntly. He then turned to look at the redhead fully. "First of all Ms. Bones, I wish to thank you. That day in Potions class, you helped draw me out of my anger. Granted, Mr. Snape quickly plunged me back in, I will give gratitude where it is due. If there is something in my power than you want, I will grant it."

Susan flushed brightly. "Ah, well… you're welcome. Can I hold onto that wish for a little while?" she asked.

Harry nodded his head. "That's fine. But I wanted to get that out of the way before I ask something of you. I'm told your Aunt is head of the DMLE. Do you have a way I can contact her without an owl? I'm worried someone might try to intercept it when I attempt to press charges against Mr. Snape." Harry said.

Susan blinked slowly. "I thought you weren't going to press charges, but just generally stay out of his classes."

"I was, until Professor Dumbledore invited Mr. Snape into a meeting regarding that incident while I was in the room. This, obviously, did not turn out too well as I am now pressing charges against Mr. Snape." Harry said quite simply.

Susan nodded softly and fished out a locket from her school robes. She opened it up to reveal a mirror. "Auntie Amelia." She said to the mirror.

Harry was quite surprised when he heard an older woman's voice come through the locket. "Susie? What's wrong? Shouldn't you be at dinner?"

"I was, but something came up that needs your attention Auntie." Susan said. "Another student wants to press charges against a Professor but he's worried about the owls."

"Oh my… please tell me it isn't Snape." The woman said.

"It is Auntie." Susan said.

Harry heard an audible sigh. "I'd like to help, I really would, but we're going to need a lot more than him berating a student to get the charges to stick."

"Just hear him out Auntie." Susan said and passed the locket over to Harry.

"Would calling you Madam Bones be fine?" Harry asked first. "I don't want to call you Ms. Bones and have you confused with your niece." He tried to adjust the mirror so that he was certain his whole face was showing.

Susan giggled. "You don't have to maneuver it Harry. It'll show your entire face just fine on Auntie's end."

Harry glanced to the mirror and held it a little closer then. He could see the older woman with a monocle in her eye. She looked like a much older version of Susan, with streaks of grey in her red hair. She had an amused smile on her face. "Madam Bones would be fine. It is good to finally see you face-to-face, so to speak, Mr. Potter. Now what's this about pressing charges against Snape? It's got to be rather serious, Dumbledore likes to get him off."

"Child endangerment, mental assault on a minor, misuse of the Legilimens Curse, endangerment of several Heirs of Noble Houses all sound like good places to start with me." Harry said rather bluntly.

Amelia blinked a moment before there was some rustling on her end as she obviously got a quill and some parchment. "Go on Mr. Potter, give it to me in as much detail as possible."

And Harry did. He gave a full run down of what he had seen, what he had smelled, what he had felt, what he had learned. It took twenty minutes, with him looking around from time to time to make sure there wasn't a spy listening in, to detail everything that he had come up with for charging Snape. He watched as Amelia's face went from stoic Auror to pissed off Auror.

"Expect something tomorrow Mr. Potter." Amelia said before the mirror turned blank.

Harry closed the locket and handed it to Susan. "That's quite a handy trinket Ms. Bones."

Susan smiled, a bit weakly since she had listened to him list everything off and realized how much her life had actually been in danger in the classroom. "Auntie said she got it from your dad as a means to keep in touch between her and my uncle."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think I'll head to bed." Harry said.

Susan nodded and moved back to the Great Hall, taking a seat beside the other first years. Harry saw them badgering her with questions but she couldn't answer any of them, just telling everyone they'd learn tomorrow.

Harry headed up to Ravenclaw Tower feeling a bit of weight off his shoulders.

-_Scene Break-_

It was breakfast when the show started. Amelia Bones entered the Great Hall with a full contingent of twelve Aurors at her back. This was also with a portly man that sort of looked like a walrus, and three men in dark blue robes with hoods that also covered their faces.

"Madam Bones," Dumbledore said, moving from the Staff Table. "How can we help you today?" he asked a bit nervously. He had not expected this when Harry had spoken with Susan the night before.

"You can stay the Hell out of my way Headmaster." Amelia said. "Chief Warlock or not, I'm in the middle of an investigation and I will arrest you if you impede it." She said this in a lower whisper. "I need all First Year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to follow Auror Shacklebolt!" she called out.

There was some shuffling as students got up to follow the tall dark skinned Auror who had raised his wand to show who he was. The three Wizards in blue robes also moved with the dark skinned Auror.

"Severus Tobias Snape, you will follow Auror Moody." Amelia said and a scarred man with a vibrant electric blue magical eye spinning around hobbled forward to lead Snape to a different room from the First Years.

"You four," she pointed to four of the Aurors. "Escort Mr. Slughorn down to the dungeons so that he might inspect them and give us his professional opinion." She said.

"Madam Bones, could I ask what the possible charges are expected to be?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, you can't Headmaster. If Snape choses to inform you what he's being charged with, then you will find out then. If not, it will be when you appear in court if we find sufficient evidence to charge Snape with." Amelia said before turning on her heel and leaving with the rest of her Aurors to follow the first years to get the questions out of the way.

-_Scene Break-_

"Mr. Potter, if you'll come with us." The Wizards in blue asked Harry, leading him into a separate classroom.

Harry took a seat at the desk offered and noticed a few signs. There were four in total. Three were marked simple '1, 2, and 3' while the last was simply black in color. Harry watched as the three wizards sat in front of him in desks that corresponded to the letters.

"Mr. Potter, we are from the Department of Mysteries. We are Unspeakables that are versed in the Mind Arts. We're here today to validate that you have Occlumency barriers and can detect a mental attack, if you consent. If your familiar would leave your shoulder, we can begin." Said the Unspeakable in the middle.

Harry glanced to Dust and nodded softly. "Go ahead." He said. He then turned his attention back to the Unspeakables. "What do I need to do?"

"If you detect an attack, hold up the black card. Then, if you can tell where it is coming from, we want you to hold up one of the numbered cards." The man in the middle said.

Harry nodded. It was a simple test, rudimentary. He felt something sliding across his barriers and held up the black card. He tried to focus and feel where it was coming from but shook his head.

This continued with various sensations. One was like water rushing over them, one was like a spike being driven in, one was like a hammer being smashed into it, one was like a fire consuming the barriers. Harry began to sweat slightly. One was like a feather brushing over it. One was like a hand caressing the barriers. Every few seconds or so, he'd hold up the black card over and over again.

However, at no time did Harry touch the numbered cards. He just wasn't quite skilled enough yet to detect where an attack was coming from.

The lead Unspeakable nodded his head before standing up with his colleagues. "We're off to report our findings now Mr. Potter. Auror Shacklebolt will be with you momentarily to get your statement." The three then left, leaving Harry with a pounding headache.

Harry rubbed his temples a bit, feeling Dust come down to comfort him. The three Unspeakables had only used subtle attempts. After all, there was no visual representation that they had been casting the curse on him. No words were spoken either. They simply just brushed against Harry's mind, much the way it had been over the course of the past week and a half.

Of course, he had only had his mind checked three times over the past week and a half and in the past thirty minutes, Harry had his mind assaulted several times, sometimes they had undoubtedly worked in tandem to try and break through Harry's shields. It left his skull throbbing and truthfully he felt nauseous. There was a throbbing right behind his right eye.

Finally the door opened to admit the tall dark-skinned Auror who sat down across from Harry with a friendly smile on his face, no doubt to try and put Harry at ease about what was going to be a cumbersome process. "Hello Mr. Potter, my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. Please, call me Kingsley."

"Auror Shack- Kingsley." Harry corrected himself. It was almost automatic to call someone by their title and their last name. It was a habit really. But Kingsley had given him leave to use his first name. He recognized that over the past few weeks he could be considered rather cold towards everyone, but it was more cordial than that. Using manners was a sort of defensive mechanism that he developed.

"The Unspeakables weren't too rough were they Mr. Potter?" Kingsley asked.

"No, they did their job and I had consented to it." Harry said. Even though his head was splitting wide open. "And please, call me Harry." He said softly. He wasn't sure why he was giving a stranger complete leave to use his first name. Even his account managers called him Mr. Potter. Perhaps it was the genuine warmth that seemed to come from the Auror.

"Harry it is then. You know, I want to say, it is an honor to meet you." Kingsley said. "I knew your father during his time at the Auror Corps. Even knew of him during his time here at Hogwarts. Of course, I was three years ahead and in a different House, but I did know of James."

And there it was. Kingsley was an open soul. Not naïve, the information given after all was completely useless and irrelevant to the situation at hand, but Kingsley told a little bit of his past, of a connection to Harry's father. "Which House did you belong to?" Harry asked a little curiously.

"Ravenclaw. I became Head Boy my seventh year and I was Quidditch Captain. Failed to keep the cup from your father's hands, but…" Kingsley shrugged in a manner like he was say 'What can I do?' "Have to hand it to James, he could have gone pro. I played Keeper myself. Any interest in trying out in the coming years?"

His father had played the sport? That was a nugget of information to chew on. "Not really." Harry said. It wasn't going to sway his interest in the slightest about Quidditch. 'Personally, I find the sport rather… boring."

Kingsley choked like he had just swallowed a harsh lemon. "Boring!?" he called out. "For those fourteen players up there, it's the most exhilarating time of their lives! Players zipping by on brooms, Bludgers threatening to break their body, the seeker having to pull feints and dives to catch a ball the size of a walnut!"

"I've jumped from the top of my Aunt and Uncle's house." Harry said simply. "No broom, no levitation, no cushioning charms."

Kingsley's eyes widened almost comically. "Madness! What drove you to do such a thing?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "It was fun and I was training. I needed to be able to take a fall without breaking anything. Have to say though, was not a fun experience. One story buildings, no problem. Two stories? Then I'm sore. But the thrill…" Harry couldn't stop the grin from threatening to split his face. "That feeling of freefall, of knowing your body is in the wind's hands and your own skill. That is where the rush comes in."

Kingsley shook his head. "You should definitely try out for Seeker then. You'll enjoy being on the broom and plummeting from a hundred feet only to pull up at ten , your broom's bristles literally brushing the pitch as the gee forces take a hold on your body."

Harry was surprised that the Auror knew about a Muggle science enough to know about gee forces. Harry just knew the very basics behind it, but nothing more. He knew the force of Gravity measured on the body were Gee forces and that it could increase on hard turns. "How do you know about gee forces?"

"Madam Bones runs a tight ship Harry." Kingsley said. "If you have to work undercover for the Prime Minister, she makes sure you can blend in with the Muggles. All Aurors that have to do undercover work must have at least their A-levels and we don't just give them out either."

Harry supposed that made some sense. A commanding officer wouldn't want someone to go out and give up information by not knowing the proper information. By making the Aurors have their A-levels, they at least knew the basics of maths and sciences so the Muggles wouldn't know the difference.

"I do believe you're to take my statement." Harry said after a moment of realizing he had gotten way off topic.

Kingsley nodded and took out some parchment and a self-inking quill. The questions began.

-_Scene Break-_

Two hours, that was how long it took. Two hours after the Aurors had arrived they had all the evidence and statements they needed and reported as such to Amelia. Amelia made the decision once she felt like she had all the facts at the given time.

"Severus Tobias Snape," Amelia said, entering the room that Snape was in, speaking with Dumbledore. "you are hereby under arrest. The charges are multiple counts of Child endangerment, multiple counts of endangerment of an Heir of a Noble House, one count misuse of the Legilimens Curse, one count assault on a minor, one count assault on the Heir of a Noble House. Kingsley, the shackles." Amelia said.

The large dark skinned Auror moved forward with a pair of manacles etched with runes. Snape stuck his hands out for them to be placed on with a sneer. He was, obviously, not happy about it. But he knew fighting it would just make things look worse.

Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose momentarily. "I will accompany you so that I can learn more details so that I can put together Severus' defense." Dumbledore said and quickly cast a Patronus of a goat to explain to McGonagall that he was leaving the castle for the time.

This was going to be a nightmare.

End Chapter

A/N: So there we have it. Snape is in custody. I'm still up in the air about how the trial will go, but the next chapter should be away from Harry's perspective for a bit as well.

Soyanara.


	7. Book 1: Chapter 7

_Last Time:_ _After a meeting with Sybil Trelawney, Harry now knows where the Resurrection Stone is located, yet another of his Deathly Artifacts. After a brief talk with Susan Bones, Harry has also spoken with Amelia Bones about pressing charges against Severus Snape and the next day he was taken into custody._

Book One: Death

Chapter 7

Dumbledore followed Amelia into a simple office where they could discuss the charges being pressed against Severus. He tried to keep calm, but he had never expected things to turn out this way. In truth, he was more than a little worried. He had no idea who the Solicitor being used would be, he had no idea the full extent of the charges, he had no idea what sort of evidence there was.

He never would have imagined, not in a thousand years, that when he placed Harry with his Aunt and Uncle so many years ago that this would occur. Dumbledore wasn't a fool either; he knew that he could trace the cause of this problem back to Harry, and to Severus. Dumbledore wasn't blind to the fact that Severus very likely could have prevented this by swallowing his own pride.

Dumbledore had expected Harry to arrive at Hogwarts well taken care of. Maybe a bit introverted, as many Muggle Born and Raised tended to be, but taken care of. In fact, when Harry walked in with his head held high even under the hood that obscured his face, he had been hopeful. He wasn't some starved child, he didn't look abused. He had thought that Harry would be exactly as he had hoped to be. Not a child with a swollen ego, but a child that would be humble, caring, even forgiving.

But everything had been dashed quickly. He had called Harry to his office to ask about the monitoring wards placed on Number 4 Privet Drive when he had placed Harry there, only to find himself rebuked at every turn. He would not attend the meeting without Fillius there, something that had pleased Dumbledore and worried him in the same instance. He had been pleased because Harry couldn't have picked a better man to have in his corner, but he had been worried because Harry was extremely guarded nonetheless. It had been… infuriating if Dumbledore was honest.

The funds, he admitted to himself, had been a mistake. It had not been his intention to steal from Harry's vault. He had just forgotten that James and Lily had paid for all seven years in advance. It made him briefly wonder if there was any merit to people telling him to step down from his posts. But he couldn't help it if he didn't remember every little thing. He tried, desperately, to keep up. Most parents didn't pay in advance.

The way he talked about his fascination with the Thestrals had made his old heart soar and sink all at once. There was Joy to the boy! He radiated with a happiness that blazed like the brilliance of a thousand suns when he spoke of the Thestrals, no matter how briefly he talked about them. But he had seen death already. At such a young age, he had seen death. No one should ever be made to see death at such a young age and his heart went out to Harry for it.

He had been worried that Harry would turn as dark as Tom had. Harry practically devoured his magical studies with a ravenous appetite Dumbledore hadn't seen since Tom or perhaps Fillius. But the presence of a Gringotts Transfer box every other morning or so put that notion to rest for Dumbledore. He had seen many a young Heir or Emancipated Lord with such a thing. Harry was keeping up with his finances and his studies, and given the vastness of the Potter fortune, Dumbledore had no doubt in his mind that Harry was progressing in his studies so much so that he didn't fall behind.

Dumbledore's heart had soared for a moment when he saw Harry and the youngest Mr. Weasley talking. However, that was quickly stamped down. It occurred to Dumbledore that Harry did not see any of his peers as friends. They were simply his peers. Harry took being introverted to a whole other level. It was like he had built a fortress around his heart and refused just about everyone entrance.

Then Minerva came to him about a wonderful thing. Harry excelled at Transfiguration! Dumbledore held a soft spot for his old teaching post, and to hear a student completed a task like that, even one so basic, on the first try had been wondrous to hear about. Harry had even offered a well thought out explanation for how he did it. But that hadn't been what Minerva had said that had truly shocked Dumbledore. Harry sat beside a Slytherin girl, even seemed to have a friendly and civil conversation with her!

It seemed like there would be a possibility to bridge the divides between the school houses!

Then the youngest Mr. Weasley had come to speak with Harry. In truth, Dumbledore had been most apprehensive about that. He knew the animosity between not only the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, but also between the Weasley and Malfoy families. The reputation of Slytherin House was not exactly unfounded, but at the same time it was indeed blown out of proportions. He had seen many students graduate from Slytherin House and not become Dark Wizards. In fact, Alastor Moody was one such individual and had become quite the fierce Auror who had been a boon to have during the War with Voldemort.

More remained neutral on deeply pressing matters, such as equality rights, than Dumbledore would have liked if he was honest. But that was simply how things went. Slytherins were cunning and ambitious after all, so they tended to look out for themselves before others. It didn't bother Dumbledore too much, they weren't dark after all.

But Harry had surprised him yet once more! He hadn't fallen to the thinking of his peers. Harry had a rather progressive way of thinking where the sins of the father did not fall upon the son. And he had stated as such before everyone. He didn't shy in the spotlight. He was unafraid of being scorned or alienated from his peers for his way of thinking.

Then the fiasco during the Potions class had occurred. At first, he thought the entire situation was blown out of proportion. That Harry had a simple dislike for Severus for some reason that caused him to go to Poppy. Dumbledore let it go, thinking Harry would cool off and after a civil conversation where he could get the child to see the merits of giving others a second chance all would be well between the Potion's professor and the Potter heir.

If Dumbledore was once more honest with himself, and he tried to be at all times, then he had at first listened to Severus about Harry's overreaction. He had been as big of a fool as his brother called him to be.

The second meeting of the school year had been rather disastrous. Fillius came in like some sort of rage filled demon possessed, with his anger well justified. Dumbledore had been accused of a great many things over his life. A great deal of them had hurt. But when Fillius, a man Dumbledore believed to be a trusted friend, had actually believed he would slip Harry a potion of some sort, Dumbledore had felt like he had been cut to his very soul.

It ranked up there with when Aberforth had accused him of being the cause of Arianna's death.

Dumbledore allowed his thoughts to go to the young man in question. Harry Potter. The boy was an enigma to Dumbledore. He was up every morning performing death defying feats. Running and jumping, catching and lifting himself up all along the Grand Staircase. Dumbledore knew because the portraits came running to tell him about it. He didn't use them as a series of spies like everyone might believe him to do, but he used them to get help for a student when a student was in danger.

He, Poppy, Minerva, and Fillius all arrived to watch as Harry had leapt from the seventh floor down to the fifth floor landing, catching himself on the banisters before lifting himself up with an athleticism that Dumbledore didn't see in even the most devout of Quidditch professionals. Poppy offered the explanation that his magic probably helped keep him fit and strong so long as he worked out, making him faster and likely stronger than the average wizard. Harry hadn't disturbed any of the students, so he allowed the exercise routine to continue.

He devoured knowledge with an incredible rate. He drew obscure books from his bags, additional reading on his various classes that were known, but not widely used. Dumbledore would swear he thought he had seen a book on Runes before as well, like Harry was studying ahead to decide which electives to take.

He had heard of Harry speaking to some of the older students, wondering about things like Alchemy and Conjuration, two very advanced forms of magic that a First year was very unlikely to be able to understand the first thing about. Dumbledore himself hadn't started in Alchemy until he was almost fifty.

Conjuration not until after he defeated Gellert.

In all honesty, Dumbledore was terrified to his bones. He was terrified of Harry turning dark in his pursuit of knowledge. Magic had a way of lulling someone in without anything to keep them from being swayed.

Dumbledore was far too old, far too tired to have to lead the charge against a third Dark Lord. He had a gut feeling already that Tom wasn't gone for good. Harry Potter going to the Darkness terrified him more than he was willing to admit.

"Have a seat Albus." Amelia said, motioning to a desk.

Dumbledore took his seat slowly rubbing his eyes a bit underneath his spectacles. "Be honest with me Amelia, please. How bad off is Severus?" he asked.

"I believe I can answer that for you." A female voice said from behind.

Dumbledore turned to see a woman with long dark hair and vibrant blue eyes. He almost groaned a bit. Andromeda Tonks was not a woman he wanted to be the Solicitor pressing charges. "It's good to see you Andromeda." Still, he wasn't going to skip the pleasantries.

"The same to you Albus." Andromeda said, sitting on the side with Amelia. "Let me explain everything. Amelia contacted me shortly before she headed to Hogwarts. She then sent a Patronus my way when she served Snape. I just got back from speaking with Mr. Potter who is pressing the charges.

"Snape is in deep hot water. If we were to drop everything but the counts of child endangerment, and even make it a simple case of accidental child endangerment, Severus Snape is still looking at three years per count. He's being charged with over a hundred counts of child endangerment Albus." Andromeda said simply.

Dumbledore looked like he had been quite thoroughly smacked in the face. "How?!" he cried out, desperately wanting to know how _that_ had happened.

"On an average of ten children per class, per year, two classes per week per year with the exception of sixth and seventh years which we'll say are only about one class a week." Andromeda said. "Twenty students per year, ten for sixth and seventh years and you're looking at one hundred and twenty students Albus, in the first week alone."

Dumbledore looked in disbelief. "I know how many students Andromeda; I want to know how they were in any form of danger with Severus!"

"The ceiling." Amelia said. "When you brew potions, it creates fumes which rise up to the ceiling. These fumes condense but aren't enough to drip from the ceiling so it creates a residue that the next set of fumes heats up until eventually it will mix together and drip down. Truth be told, the Potions Classroom was a ticking time bomb Albus. It's pure luck it hasn't exploded."

"Professor Slughorn," Andromeda said taking over. "Has verified that the ceilings were absolutely coated in residue from potions. Not just one type of potion Albus, but over fifty. It was pure luck that it didn't explode and cause a collapse of the ceiling." She said. "Professor Slughorn brewed a quick potion and used some of the residue to see a test. A simple Boil Cure potion that is the first potion a First Year learns how to brew blew up when the residue was added Albus. It blew up with enough force to send shrapnel from the cauldron all over the place. Strong barriers around the desk were all that kept those testing it from being injured."

Dumbledore sat back, looking absolutely mortified at the idea that there had almost been an entire class of casualties. And that was if the ceiling wasn't blown apart and forced to collapse. Dumbledore was completely shaken, not knowing what had happened.

"Professor Slughorn spent the entire first month with the First years teaching nothing but Potion safety." Andromeda said. "He taught us to look all over the place for where any Potion residue might have been. I remembered, Albus, standing on the desk and scrubbing the ceiling when I was a First Year. I remember scrubbing my cauldron, my knives, my stirrers, everything for a grade. And Horace Slughorn was not just Snape's Potions Professor, but also his Potions Master. I can't in a right mind say that Snape did this under anything but pure neglect. He knew the proper safety measures but hasn't taken them. I asked around Albus, even talked to Nymphadora, yet there wasn't any mention of any safety courses to be had. And please remember that this is all based on throwing out every other charge except for the Child Endangerment."

Dumbledore slumped in his chair a bit. Three years for each count of the one hundred and twenty counts of Child Endangerment. Five because it wasn't accidental. Snape would be ash and dust by the time he was out of Azkaban.

"You said you just got back from speaking with Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, looking up. "I take it he's not in any mind to let the charges drop."

"Hardly Albus, especially not after the Aurors got ahold of the child endangerment." Andromeda said. "However, Harry is willing to let most of it slide."

Amelia looked to Dumbledore and spoke then. "If Severus pleads guilty, he won't go to Azkaban. Instead, he'll have his teaching credentials revoked, he'll never be allowed an apprentice and he'll brew potions for the Ministry for the rest of his life. He'll be paid; he'll be tracked at all times. This is the best possible solution and only if Severus pleads guilty to all charges."

Dumbledore sat back. He could feel his heart beating hard. He could hardly believe things had gotten that bad. He remembered his own Potions Professor drilling safety into their heads. Even his old friend, Nicholas Flamel, had drilled safety into his mind. Yet Severus was just letting the students brew without any safety measures being taken?

"There will also be a fine of fifty thousand galleons." Andromeda said. "That will be split evenly between Saint Mungos and the Auror division of the Ministry. Because of Snape's negligence, those two places have been hit the worse. He will have to pay it back over his entire life time."

"That seems to be a bit much." Dumbledore said. "Surely we can get it cut down a bit."

"Albus, I want you to remember that _I _only made an Exceeds Expectations on my Potion's OWL." Amelia said as a way of rebuking that idea. "And here I am, running the DMLE now. Snape's negligence has likely caused many a student that would probably get an Outstanding get only an Exceeds Expectations. He then outright bars them from his NEWT level Potions, because they got marked off for safety that he never taught."

"But so much?" Dumbledore asked.

Andromeda sat back. "Very well, let's take it to court. Let's take a former Death Eater who never got a trial to court for the mental assault of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived." She said. "You and I both know that Snape will be crucified, figuratively and possibly literally. And I assure you, I have the report from the Unspeakables. Mr. Potter's barriers are strong enough to keep out any and all subtle attempt while alerting him to the intrusion. A defense advocate might make a case that Harry couldn't possibly know who the Legilimens probe had come from, but we both know that won't hold water. One adult in a room full of eleven year olds?"

Dumbledore could already hear the riots in the streets. "Every charge?" he asked softly.

"Every count of Child Endangerment and the counts of Endangerment of the Heirs to a Noble House." Andromeda said. "Mr. Potter is willing to forgo the Assault, Misuse of the Legilimens Curse, and Assault on the Heir of a Noble House. So yes, Severus Snape will still be quite thoroughly and irrevocably in hot water, but he won't be crucified for attempting the mind of Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore rose to his feet slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose once more. "Where is Severus so that I might speak with him Amelia?"

"Holding Cell A5." Amelia said. "Auror Dawlish will escort you down there." She said.

Dumbledore turned and left the room pondering all that he had been told. 'Hello John." He said to the Auror stationed by the entrance to the Holding Cells. "I'm here to see Severus Snape. Amelia said he's in Cell A5."

Dawlish set down his quill and parchment before standing up. "I have to ask you to leave your wand on the desk." When Dumbledore complied, he got the key and headed into the holding cells. He paused by the door with a large A on it, unlocking the fifth lock with the key.

Dumbledore knew each of the holding cells held up to ten prisoners, and there were ten holding cells per door, with ten doors. It worked, in theory, very similar to a multi-compartment trunk. Getting out was near impossible. It would be even for someone like Dumbledore.

Dawlish stood to the side of the door with his wand out, obviously prepared if Snape tried to get out. Dumbledore moved into the cell quietly to see Snape sitting there quite calmly on the cot. Dumbledore moved to sit beside him on the cot, enough for the space of one person to be between them.

"When am I getting out of here Albus?" Snape asked.

"You're not." Dumbledore said. "Severus, I could pull every political favor I have earned over my many, many years, empty my vaults with bribes in your favor, and still you would be sentenced to life in Azkaban on the most minor of charges that are being levied against you."

Snape bolted right up. "What in blazes are you talking about!?" he asked loudly. "Are you telling me that Harry Potter, a pampered and foolish boy, has managed to outwit the great Albus Dumbledore?!" he sneered.

"Sit down Severus." Dumbledore said in a hard voice. He watched as Snape briefly debated before sitting down. "Now I don't know the safety measures you take in your classroom. I let the Professors themselves run their ship their way so long as the students are in no danger. However, you forgot the crucial necessity and safety measure of cleaning everything properly. The past eight years of Potions brewing has built up on the ceiling of your classroom. This residue caused a Cure Boils potion to explode violently. Horace will testify against you if this goes to court. He is a man of comfort, but one thing he cannot abide by is the lack of safety in Potions. For this school year alone, a week of school, they can charge you with one hundred and twenty counts of Endangering a Child. That's five years because Horace will say he had taught you the importance of cleaning the ceiling and I know he did. Six hundred years you'll be facing Severus."

Snape's eyes widened and his face took an even paler shade. "Surely there is something you can do Albus!"

"The charges against you for assault on a minor, assault on the heir of a Noble House, and misuse of the Legilimens Curse are willing to be dropped." Dumbledore said, turning to look Snape in the eyes. "You will go up with me to see Amelia Bones and Andromeda Tonks. You will sign the ruling that you will plead Guilty for the rest of the charges. You will never have an apprentice, you will never be allowed to teach a student ever again, you will be fined fifty thousand galleons that you will pay, and you will work for the Ministry as a Potion's Master for the rest of your life. If you're lucky, you can petition to work at Saint Mungos where you might be required to brew trickier Potions. But as of this moment Severus, my hands were solidly tied by your actions. Mr. Potter may have gotten the ball rolling so to speak, but you, to copy a Muggle term, screwed the pooch with your actions."

"Then I will get someone who can do something!" Snape said viciously. "Potter's brat will rue the day he's done this to me!"

'You will get absolutely destroyed in Court." Dumbledore said bluntly. "Mr. Potter has already understood the importance of his fame and who exactly he is. Think for a moment Severus. I got you off without a trial for your part in the war. Now, you target who many believe to be the biggest hero of the war with the Legilimens Curse. If you were even to get off on everything else, you would still be killed by the public for that charge alone. We both know it."

Snape looked murderous, but Dumbledore decided to cut him off from speaking. "Instead of seeing Mr. Potter as James Potter's son, you never even thought to see him as Lily Evans' son. She would be ashamed of what you have done Severus." Dumbledore rose to his feet. He would not help Snape this time if he was looking to fight the charges.

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment. "I just have to agree to the endangerment of children and the endangerment of the heirs of Noble houses?" he asked quietly as Dumbledore looked quite ready to leave.

"That is all." Dumbledore said turning to glance at Snape, not really knowing what was going through the man's mind.

"Who will you get to take over for my Snakes?" Snape asked. "Who will teach Potions?"

"I will ask Horace if he would consent to come out of retirement, at least until I can find a suitable replacement once more." Dumbledore said.

Snape sighed audibly. "Very well. I will plead guilty." He said standing.

It was a matter of moments before they were once more in the office with Amelia Bones and Andromeda Tonks. Snape looked to the Blood quill placed beside the parchment with obvious distaste on his face. Dumbledore was momentarily worried that he wouldn't sign it. That this would go to court and there would be some ugliness dragged out.

These fears were unfounded however when Snape picked the quill up and signed the parchment, binding it to him. "I have twenty thousand galleons in my vault at Gringotts that I can spare, would this suffice to begin with?" Snape asked. He had been meticulously saving up for years. Most of it had come from Lucius to tutor Draco in the various arts. He had been saving it for retirement, so that he wouldn't have to deal with Hogwarts' students.

Andromeda duplicated the parchment and gave Dumbledore a copy, Amelia a copy, and Snape a copy. She kept one for herself and rolled it up. "Yes, I do believe that will be everything. Good day then." She said as she let herself out.

Dumbledore rolled up his own copy and shook his head. "I must give Horace a job offer." Dumbledore said with a slight sigh. "Good day Amelia, Severus." He then promptly walked out.

-_Scene Break-_

Dumbledore arrived at his old friend and colleague's home. He wasn't entirely certain how he was going to convince Horace to come back to Hogwarts and become a Professor again. Last he heard Slughorn had been happy in his retirement. No worries to his lifestyle, no apprentices to worry about either. It was quite a luxury that few could enjoy.

He strode up to the door and was unsurprised when it opened for him. Undoubted Slughorn had set up plenty of wards to keep him alerted to when someone was coming for a social call. Undoubtedly Slughorn also knew that it was Dumbledore himself.

"Hello Horace." Dumbledore said as he entered the sitting room, watching as his old friend sat in a chair drinking a bit of brandy, looking at an old photo album.

"Hello Albus. I'm really sorry about that mess, but it had to be done. Can you imagine if one of those cauldron's had exploded as one class was leaving and another was entering? It would set off a chain reaction." Slughorn shook his head and closed his book. "I thought I taught Severus much better than that."

"I admit I too did not see such a thing." Dumbledore said as he took a seat nearby. "I'm sure you're aware of why I'm here. I now need a new Potions Professor and a new Head of Slytherin House. You were once both."

"I'm enjoying my retirement Albus. Why would I want to come back to Hogwarts and teach once more?" Slughorn asked. "And don't give me any of that spiel about seeing young minds at work. You and I both know that doesn't work for me."

"One name Horace: Harry Potter." Dumbledore said with a satisfied smile on his face when he noticed Slughorn's attention. "You love being the man behind the great ones. You don't need the spotlight, but you crave the opportunity to make connections, to be the one to say you're the reason such famous people got their start. And to you, Harry Potter is the crème de la crème. He would be the center piece of your collection of students."

Dumbledore was not afraid of using Harry's fame to get Slughorn to agree to teach, at least until someone else came along. And he was right; Lily Evans had been the last center piece for Slughorn. She had been brilliant to such an extreme. However, she was also extremely friendly with just about everyone. Even the Slytherins had difficulty hating her because she attempted to learn the rules, the customs. It had been scary really.

"Ah, already pandering to my addiction Albus? You are a truly cunning foe. But who does Mr. Potter act more like? His father who I had no interest in? Or his mother?" Slughorn asked.

"Neither." Dumbledore said firmly. It was safe to say, in his mind at least, that Harry Potter was his own man. Yes, there was that hunger for knowledge that Lily had, but the fact of the matter was Harry didn't flaunt his knowledge either. If there had been one short coming to Lily, it would have been her need to flaunt her knowledge. However, in later years it was quickly tempered into something more.

"Come now Albus, you'll have to do better than that to get me to come." Slughorn said, sipping some of his brandy. "I admit, you have good leverage, but retirement is a big rock to pry off of me." He said. "Perhaps you should try it."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "No, I will enjoy being Headmaster until I no longer can. I quite enjoy seeing the faces of students learning." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with mirth as he looked to Slughorn. "Let us be honest Horace. You're already packed, ready to go back to Hogwarts. So many Heirs to so many Noble families in their First Year. It is a temptation you cannot resist. Abbot, Bones, Crabbe, Greengrass, Goyle, Li, Longbottom, Malfoy, MacDougal, Nott, Parkinson, Patil, Potter, Smith. You cannot resist that sort of temptation; you and I both know it."

Slughorn began to chuckle, almost bouncing in his seat. "Oh ho… Albus you _do _know me after all. I want a raise and I want Professor Merryweather's old office. And I want Professor Odgen's old quarters. They were most spacious." He said.

"All acceptable conditions Horace." Dumbledore said and stood up, offering his hand.

Slughorn stood up and shook Dumbledore's hand. "I will gather my things, if you would send a House Elf by to pick them up?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "I will introduce you tonight."

-_Scene Break-_

It was dinner time and Dumbledore tapped his goblet with his spoon while standing up. "I would like your attention please." He said loudly. "Professor Snape is no longer with us. After finding out the danger he had put his students in, he has stepped down from his posts and will no longer be teaching at Hogwarts. Let us hope he finds safety and good luck in his future endeavors." Dumbledore said loudly and clearly.

However, the Great Hall erupted into applause and cheering with the exception of the majority of the Slytherin students. The Weasley Twins suddenly both stood up with a foot on the table, holding a banner on either side that exclaimed 'Potter the Hero!' Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs nudged the dark haired boy, and whistles were heard.

Dumbledore raised his wand and let it give off a loud bang. He smiled slightly at their enthusiasm, but he was heartbroken inside that he had not seen such animosity. He was also pleased that Harry wasn't preening or even smiling. He sat their stoically, watching Dumbledore as though he was expecting something else. Of course, Dumbledore wasn't going to speak ill of Snape. He would let those that had enjoyed the man think of him as not a heartless man.

"Do not be alarmed, I have already found a suitable replacement to both posts of Potions Professor and to the Head of Slytherin House. Professor Horace Slughorn has agreed to return to his posts." At this point, the portly man stood up and gave a bit of a wave before sitting back down. "I hope all of you do well under his care and learn a lot more." Dumbledore said before slowly sitting down.

He glanced once more to Harry, watching the boy. Harry had calmly gone back to eating.

Dumbledore wondered what had happened to the boy to turn him into such an individual. Were his relatives that bad to him? He sincerely wished he had the boy's trust so that he could ask. Alas, he did not. Perhaps Flitwick would tell him if he asked.

He could only hope.

End Chapter

A/N: We have a time skip next chapter. I feel it's about time for one.


	8. Book 1: Chapter 8

_Last Time: Dumbledore was unable to get Severus Snape off of the charges. He manages to recruit Horace Slughorn out of retirement and back to a teaching position as Hogwarts' Potions Master._

Book One: Death

Chapter 8

Harry had finally started to fall into a well-oiled routine that worked for him. It took until two weeks before Halloween, but he finally had the routine he was looking for. It was finally time to test himself in the one method he had been looking forward to since September the First. It had taken weeks of prep actually, and that was with his request from Gringotts coming in.

The silvery, mist like fluid had gone down rather easy. But then Harry had a splitting headache for the rest of the week. He had learned firsthand how to use a parachute through the eyes of a Goblin. Harry had sent a note, telling Rotgut to send the Goblin an extra thousand galleons for its services. After all, as a creature of the depths, Goblins preferred being surrounded on all sides by rock and stone. For it to have jumped from an airplane, the Goblin must have been utterly terrified and traumatized. Yet, true to its race, for its client and profit, it had done it anyways.

And it hadn't jumped once or twice. It had jumped over a dozen times so Harry had the experience of how to use a parachute and when to use the parachute. For that, Harry was willing to fork over some money.

That Thursday morning, he was up bright and early. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors had a free period in the morning and he was planning on making the most of it. He forwent his usual workout, wanting the strength that was going to be required for what he had planned.

Harry changed from the usual dress uniform into a pair of loose fitting and comfortable workout pants. He made sure that the pants legs were bound so that he didn't step on them or anything. A black t-shirt was all he wore for a top.

Harry headed outside the school, glancing around. He saw some Gryffindors enjoying their free period, running about and playing some games. He knew that the Ravenclaws were holed up either in the tower or the library, studying.

Harry checked the securement of his chute, remembering that the Goblin had also done some BASE jumping so that it knew the various differences between why and when the parachute needed deployed. Harry felt the clips around his thighs and he jumped a bit, feeling the straps around his waist and crisscrossing his chest. He then tightened where it felt loose.

Harry checked the small pouch at his hip and soon dipped his hands into it. He rubbed the chalk on his hands a moment so that he knew there was no moisture that would cause him to slip. He had a plan for how often he'd use the chalk for safety purposes.

He had already determined everything and he breathed out a bit. "I'm down right barmy." Harry said as he looked ahead at his goal. Every single safety precaution was being taken on this climb. Even Dust was out, circling around and watching over his Bonded.

Harry was going to climb Hogwarts.

It was the perfect test to his strength, to his skill at climbing. An old castle like Hogwarts, even with as much magic as there was going into keeping it, offered plenty of hand and footholds. It practically begged to be climbed and Harry was going to climb it. The sheer thrill had been bugging him for weeks. He needed to climb it.

Every weekend, he had sat outside and let Dust examine the surface of the walls, finding the perfect hand holds for Harry. It was going to take more than a fair amount of daring at times, but that was what Harry wanted. He wanted there to be a thrill, he wanted to put his body out there and trust in his instincts and his body.

Nerves fluttered in his stomach. Harry was excited to begin, but his body was naturally afraid. It was going to be glorious.

Harry knew more than a few students had been giving him curious, passing glances as he had been staring down at the wall to one of the towers of Hogwarts. Harry was tracing his path that he was going to climb, remembering the reconnaissance work that Dust had performed.

Harry stretched himself a bit, double checking his shoes being tied. The laces were tucked into the shoes. He inhaled deeply, rotating his neck before exhaling slowly.

He bolted forward.

Harry kicked up the wall a little bit and caught himself on the first hand hold, feeling the way the stone felt on his fingers. He dragged himself up and caught the second one. He swung his body out and caught his leg on one of the torch sconces. Higher and higher he went, pausing at every floor to reapply some chalk to his hands. He caught himself on the ledge of a window at the second floor and pulled himself up, turning to sit on the window sill. More chalk and he quickly began to climb again. He grunted as he made his way up, higher and higher.

This was something so few wizards would even contemplate trying. And that was why Harry was doing it. Having done exercises that demanded trust of the body and the strength it contained, this was the ultimate test. So Harry climbed higher and higher, grunting a bit. At one point, he thought he heard a window open, but he ignored it. He focused solely on the climb.

The towers were the highest point of the school. The ramparts connecting most of the towers were at about a hundred feet, about twenty feet higher than the roof of the school. The towers were an additional twenty feet higher than the ramparts. It was just sound military strategy back then. Hogwarts was a school, yes, but it was built as a fortress, a castle. It was a place to be defended.

The tower Harry scaled was a hundred and twenty feet into the air, several times higher than the highest climb he had ever made. His body ached as he dragged himself up onto the roof of the tower and allowed himself a small reprieve. His hands ached and throbbed and he couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he breathed heavily.

At a hundred and twenty feet in the air, he felt free. He detested being confined to a cramped space such as the Ravenclaw tower. He spent as much of his time awake in vast rooms. From the Great Hall to the Grand Staircase, even outside. The classrooms were bearable in themselves.

But nothing beat outside, up high where no one could get to him easily. There was freedom and solitude up there. He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face, threatening to split it wide.

Having spent the majority of his younger years, up until Dust had found him, in a cramped boot cupboard. The recent years had helped ease his anxiety, but he still absolutely despised enclosed spaces. Learning how to run, to feel the wind in his face and hair, to climb and escape from everyone, that had been his escape. It had been a means to break free from the crippling anxiety that his claustrophobia had brought him.

But none of his classmates would ever know, except for maybe the other Riders. They just wouldn't understand. He needed absolute freedom. He had even hated riding the train to Hogwarts because of the enclosed feel. Playing the chess had helped.

Riding the Thestral up to the Great Hall had been truly satisfying. It had helped ease his anxieties.

There was nothing that magic could do to help the fact he was absolutely terrified of tightly enclosed spaces.

"Enjoying yourself up here Mr. Potter?" Harry wanted to groan as he heard the voice of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry… wasn't exactly sure how to feel about Dumbledore. On one hand, he felt too much like some grand master manipulator. It came from Dumbledore having his finger in far too many pies. He was Leader of the Present Government, and he was the Headmaster of the Future Government. Probably had been for far longer than Harry realized, yet still Dumbledore had to fight tooth and nail for his progressive policies.

He was trying to keep tradition while still allowing for new concepts and new ideas to flow in, and perhaps it had been set back by the likes of Grindelwald and Voldemort, but Harry just didn't see it. Then again, Harry was willing to admit to himself, Dumbledore could just be a very influential and innocent person. But he doubted it.

Then there was Dumbledore constantly sticking his nose in Harry's business. He could understand the reversal of funds by Gringotts. That had been a school matter. While Harry's Head of House could handle it, Dumbledore showed that there was an ulterior motive when he asked about Harry living with his Aunt and Uncle. Harry's living conditions were not school related.

Then there had been the incident with Snape. Dumbledore could have handled that a lot better than having both opposing sides of the argument in the same room as one another. But telling Harry that he needed to offer a second chance had burned Harry of the old man. He wasn't going to make an enemy of Dumbledore, but he certainly wasn't a friend either.

Harry slowly stood up, completely at ease on the slanted roof. He supposed the safety of a student also fell under school business, and while Harry would argue about his safety, being quite fine by himself actually, he was sure that Dumbledore didn't think so. "How'd you do Headmaster?" Harry was mildly amused by Dumbledore's form on a broom.

"Quite well, thank you Mr. Potter. Now what say we get you down from there?" Dumbledore said quite jovially. He even had a spare broom tagging along, no doubt having enchanted it to do so.

Harry shook his head with a slight smile. "No thank you Headmaster. I'm quite content where I'm at right now."

Dumbledore frowned momentarily. "However did you even get up here Mr. Potter?"

Harry smiled even more broadly. "I climbed." He said before he turned to look at another tower. He judged the distance and the slight climb. It would take some work, including running along the wall of the rampart instead of the walkway.

"Mr. Potter, I must insist that you come with me. It simply isn't safe up here." Dumbledore said, moving forward a bit to try and get the broom by Harry.

"Headmaster, you'll have to catch me." Harry said before he bolted. He slid down the roof and hit the walkway of the rampart in a roll. Once on his feet, he made quick work of stepping up to an archer station and climbing on top of the higher wall beside it.

He sort of did a hopping run along the wall of the rampart, both arms out to his sides for balance. When he got to the next roof, he made quick work of climbing it and up onto the slanted room once more. He chanced a look over his shoulder to see Dumbledore finally regaining his bearings.

Harry dashed up the side of the roof of the tower and looked out over the direction he was looking at. He could hear the brooms coming through the air, with a call of 'Mr. Potter!' from Dumbledore. Taking a deep breath, Harry rushed down the side of the tower and jumped with all his might.

Shortly after the plunge, Harry yanked the cord to the parachute, feeling it jerk his body as it exploded outwards. He glanced up at it, seeing the design on the otherwise white parachute for the first time. Done in black was a crow perched atop a skull with its wings spread wide. The Goblins had really out done themselves.

Harry laughed. He couldn't help himself. He could practically imagine the look on Dumbledore's face when Harry had taken the jump. He slowly drifted his way towards the Black Lake and took a plunge inside. He took a gasp of air before he went under and made quick work of unlatching his parachute from his body before he kicked for the surface.

He swam to the shore and took a moment to catch his breath before he turned his focus on the parachute.

He did this with his clothes every single morning. But he had never attempted something as large as the parachute was and he had never attempted something completely and utterly soaked in water. Still, he had to try.

He held his hand out, reaching out with his magic. He visualized his parachute, visualization was key to what he was attempting. Ever since he first tapped into magic with Dust, the crow had demanded he practiced it, to remember the feelings behind it.

And so Harry had.

And this was something that required absolute power. Still, Harry turned his hand palm up and began to raise his hand slowly. Slowly from the water of the Black Lake, the parachute began to rise. Harry held his left hand steady, keeping the parachute afloat. Usually he could do what he was attempting with a single hand, but the draw on his magic was demanding he split his focus between both hands.

He reached out with his right hand, like he was grasping some invisible rope and began to pull. The parachute began to come closer and when it was in the shallows of the lake, Harry let it drop with a loud splash. He panted a moment as he waded into the water to grab it.

He then dragged it ashore, falling to his knees and breathing heavily. He was a little surprised to hear a bunch of cheering and he was dragged to his feet by the two Weasley Twins.

"Harry Potter ladies and gentlemen!" The one on his left said.

"With bigger balls than the entirety of Gryffindor combined!" the one on his right said.

"And more Ambition than any Slytherin!" The one on his left said

"With the intelligence of all the Ravenclaws to pull it off!"

"Harry Potter!" Harry yanked his arms free and stood straight and stiffly at the angry yell of his Head of House. Flitwick marched up with his wand out and his face quite red. "I do not know what _possessed_ you Mr. Potter to _climb_ Hogwarts itself, but I should be seeing you expelled for that little stunt! Jumping off of Hogwarts is the icing on the cake as far as I am concerned!" Flitwick said, his eyes glaring angrily up at Harry.

"I don't think that will be necessary Fillius, so long as it does not happen again.' Dumbledore said, coming up through the crowd.

"Never in my very long life, Mr. Potter, have I seen such reckless stupidity performed. I have seen your father at work, and Mr. and Mr. Weasley behind you, but never have I seen such recklessness, not even from a Gryffindor, nonetheless one of my Ravenclaws. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Flitwick asked, practically ignoring Dumbledore.

Harry took a moment to think. Telling Flitwick that it had been to test himself would very likely get him expelled, regardless of what Dumbledore said. However, he would be sooner be expelled or die if he said he was looking for a place to relax, to feel safe in front of what was looking like the entire student body and most of the staff. "No Sir." Harry said firmly and strongly. He wouldn't look weak either.

Flitwick regarded Harry for a while, his eyes quite angry. "Mr. Potter, you will have detention with me every Saturday from now until the Holiday Break from just after Breakfast until Dinner. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes Sir." Harry said. It could be far worse, Harry knew that much. And he would man up his punishment fully.

"Now Fillius, surely taking away House Points and a few detentions would suffice." Dumbledore said, about to change the punishment.

"My punishment will stand Albus. Mr. Potter has made it clear to me that he has no desire to earn House Points and as such is also unaffected by the loss of them." Flitwick said. "To him they show a dated system that does not work any longer and only divides the Houses. He has personally written a twenty four inch essay on his beliefs and I will respect those beliefs. He will be serving detention with me at the times I have stated."

Harry bent down and gathered his parachute. "If you'll excuse me Professors." Harry said. "I do believe I have to go get changed before class." He then made his way past them both, carrying the parachute in his arms. It was sopping wet, just as he was.

"And make sure you head to Madam Pomfrey before class!" Flitwick called after the dark haired boy.

Harry paused at the entry way, noticing Filch. "I will clean it up later." He told the caretaker. "Before dinner, but after classes." He would need the time to mop up from the entry way to Ravenclaw tower.

Filch just nodded his head, watching unblinkingly as Harry made his way up the stairs.

Harry got a shower and changed into his school robes. He tossed the parachute into one of the many hampers by itself with a note for the House Elves on the care for it. He didn't want them to ruin it trying to wash it or anything, but he also needed to get the lake water out of it.

Harry went to his bed and strapped his wand against his forearm doing the same with his knife on the left forearm. He hadn't yet decided what to do about the Harvester yet. He didn't want to take it around the school and have someone notice it.

Dust came in at that moment and landed on his shoulder. He stroked Dust's beak a bit. He seriously doubted anyone in the entire school would believe him for a minute if he said that he had done his entire climb without the use of magic.

Still, if it kept others from attempting it in some foolish and stupid attempt that could very well get them killed, he would say that he had performed some magic to allow him to do what he did. He would also be intentionally vague about it. He would bend the truth to the point of it breaking, but he wasn't going to let some other insecure first year try to climb.

Harry headed to the hospital wing.

As soon as he entered, he was waylaid by the school nurse, pointing firmly to the bed that he had sat on when he first arrived. He held his hands up and made his way over. He knew better than to argue with the woman when it was very clear she was upset.

"Climbing the school!" she said quite loudly. "Out of your mind, completely barmy!" Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Do you know how many people you have scared with your stunt? And then jumping off of Hogwarts in front of the Headmaster no less!" She came over to him. "Hands Mr. Potter." She said.

Harry up turned his hands, showing them. He knew the skin was torn his fingertips had bled even. It had stung putting the chalk on his hand from about sixty feet on up. He heard Madam Pomfrey tsk slightly before she set to work.

His hands were dunked in essence of Murtlap once more, cleaning up the wounds. "And what do you have to say for yourself young man? What on earth possessed you to climb up the tower on the outside of Hogwarts?!" she said. She began more diagnostic spells on Harry.

Harry bowed his head a little bit. He bit his tongue, desperately thinking a little bit. "Healer's oath of secrecy?" he asked softly.

Madam Pomfrey paused a moment, a lot of her anger being taken out of her by that quiet statement. Like he was desperate to tell someone something that had stayed bottled up for so long. She withdrew her wand and secured a silencing spell around them. "No one will hear it from me Mr. Potter." She said.

Harry began to rub his hands in the essence of Murtlap, working it in and peeling some of the tore skin off. "I started running and climbing the way I do as a means of escape. A reminder to myself that I can trust myself. Climbing Hogwarts like that, it had been exhilarating, freeing, it solidified my beliefs that I can trust myself, that what's wrong with me isn't because of what I've done." He said. "So yes, it was testing my abilities. It was the ultimate test that I need to do."

Harry shifted his head up to look at Madam Pomfrey. "I'm claustrophobic. I'm utterly terrified of being in enclosed spaces, where I can't spread my arms out wide and touch nothing but air. I'm terrified of being stuck in some dark cramped space. But I turn my fear into something else. I turn it into anger, into cold aloofness. The train ride here? I utterly loathed it. Playing chess with Mr. Weasley had helped, as with riding the Thestral up to the school. But then in the Great Hall, with people pressing in around me." Harry shook his head.

"Climbing up… that had been the ultimate freedom. The wind in my hair, the sun on my face, skies open as far as the eyes can see. Even now, I get anxious around cramped spaces. I'll go in, but…" Harry could tell he was shaking; talking about the cramped darkness always reminded him of the boot cupboard.

Back when he was weaker. Back when he was small.

"Gringotts never helped. Goblins are surrounded by earth, stone, and darkness at all times. I try to get most of my monetary needs taken care all at once so I'm not down in the tunnels more than necessary. But… even still…" Harry said softly.

Madam Pomfrey looked to Harry sadly and nodded softly. "I understand Mr. P- Harry." She said, using his first name in a gentle tone. "If you're ever feeling the anxiety, I want you to leave where you're feeling it. I promise I'll keep it secret, but you need to let someone else know as well. The more people helping you through this, the better you will eventually be." She said.

Harry nodded his head slowly. "I'll try." He said. That was all he could promise.

-_Scene Break-_

As it turned out, his stunt had also drawn on his magic. It caused his magic to be much weaker until the weekend when he had time to rest and relax, giving it back. When he finished with breakfast, he stood up and began to walk towards the Charms Classroom where he would have his detention.

Oddly enough, the Weasley Twins had stood and saluted him as he walked off. Like they were never going to see him again after a detention with Flitwick.

Harry wanted to point out that Flitwick wouldn't be that kind; that Harry still had about another six detentions with the squat professor. He didn't, not wanting to give the Twins even more reason to cause a scene. They gave him a relatively wide berth, either not wanting to draw his ire for some incomprehensible reason, or they were worried that their tricks wouldn't work.

Either way worked for Harry.

Harry went to the Charms classroom and entered, immediately noting that it was vastly different. It was more spacious and open; Harry was not able to see the ceiling. There was also a thick mist making it difficult to see.

Dust cawed and instincts screamed out. Harry dove to the side just as a spell impacted against the wall. His knife and his wand were out in both hands and he was cursing himself, berating himself for not carrying the Harvester around. But then again, he never thought he would be attacked.

Especially not by a diminutive Charms Professor.

Harry rolled from behind his cover, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Flitwick had charmed the classroom to look like a cave with thick mist and several irregular rock formations that would provide cover. He slung his knife out in the direction that the spell had come from, only to have to dodge out of the way of more spells.

Harry's heart was racing as Dust took to the air. Harry closed his eyes briefly, keeping his other senses open as he looked through Dust's eyes, trying to use the crow's superior vision. Unfortunately he still wasn't able to see anything.

"Tsk, tsk Mr. Potter. I would have thought you'd know better than to throw your only means of Defense right now." Flitwick said, his voice seemingly coming from everywhere at once as the rock walls let the voice bounce around.

Harry grabbed a pebble from the ground and threw it at a random direction, listening to it bounce before seeing the spell fire slam into the area. Harry retaliated with a spell of his own. There wasn't much he could do, except throw sparks at his Charms Professor. But Harry advanced after his spell work, dodging to the side of more spells being blasted around him.

He breathed a bit heavier, his eyes focused and sharp. Sweat poured off his face from the movement already. His heart hammered in his chest as he thought about what he could do. He had already thrown his knife at his Charms Professor, which admittedly had not been a good idea.

Harry's only option was to get closer and get physical with Flitwick. Again, that wasn't a particularly great idea. He had no idea of knowing precisely where Flitwick was, despite the spells coming from the same area.

Harry also didn't want to ask the obvious question of why Flitwick was doing this. The darkness seemed to get thicker with the mist and Harry felt himself getting angry at the acknowledgement of his fear. He threw up his Deathly Aura as much as he could without changing, letting the cold seep through his body.

Dust had said that Harry wasn't ready for some of the stronger powers of the Pale Rider. There was little doubt in his mind that Dust was right on those matters, but Harry was quite outmatched already and he had lost the door in the process.

So Harry began to condense his powers to his left hand. Usually he would have to condense the water in the air, but the thick mist helped with this. It swirled a bit as the powers of Death coursed through him, drawing deep from his magical core. Dust cawed warningly overhead, but it wasn't telling Harry to stop.

A curved blade of ice began to form in Harry's hand and he gripped the cold substance before flipping over his cover. He raced in, throwing out a few more spells to light his path. He dodged out of the way of several more spells until he was hit with a leg locker jinx. He rolled forward, slamming into some rocks with a painful groan. He glared down at his ankles before he rolled up, propping himself up on the cover.

Condensed lances of ice formed before launching themselves at the general direction Flitwick was casting from. Harry could feel his anger forcing his Deathly Aura even higher, threatening to turn him into the ghastly visage of the Pale Rider. He even felt blood begin to drip from his nose from both nostrils as his magic was pressed too far.

A spell slammed into him and darkness overtook him.

Harry jerked awake, gasping and rising up. He felt a surprisingly strong hand on his chest and words being spoken. His mind was taking a moment to clear up so that he could understand what was being said. "Relax Harry, easy."

Harry turned to see Flitwick who had a look of worry on his face. Harry touched his chest gently. His chest felt tight and throbbed with some pain. Harry felt two familiar weights on his arms and he twisted his wrists to see the knife and the wand sheathed. "What- What happened?"

Flitwick helped Harry take a drink from some water before he helped Harry move to a chair. Flitwick then took a seat across from Harry, once more in the Charm Professor's office. "What happened…" Flitwick began. "I had gotten a little over zealous, and I admit that perhaps I did not anticipate your own actions. Take a moment to remember everything." Flitwick said.

Clarity eventually slammed into Harry and he could feel his anger begin to boil. Dust cawed from the side before resting on Harry's shoulders. "You attacked me." Harry said simply.

Flitwick nodded. "That is certainly one way of looking at it. And I do not blame you for thinking that way." Flitwick said as he prepared some tea. "I wanted to teach you the first lesson any Duelist learns. An attack can come at any time, from anywhere, from anyone. It helps focus your thoughts, hone your reflexes on the Dueling platform. Again, I admit I got overzealous and had not anticipated your reaction."

Harry watched Flitwick. The man seemed to show genuine remorse over what had happened. "Why?" Harry asked. 'Why teach me anything about dueling? Especially as a detention nonetheless."

Flitwick smiled a bit. "I keep hoping to find a student that will take my techniques, take them and learn from them. I wish for an apprentice. And seeing you scale Hogwarts, it showed a grit and determination that I have never seen anyone else have. It showed athleticism that is required of a Duelist that a Quidditch player just does not have. It… it ignited something inside of me. So yes, I gave you detentions for your actions. I was genuinely angry and terrified of what you did. I believe a great many of us teachers who found out were. But the detentions were a ruse to have you where I could train you to Duel. So I started the first lesson with perhaps the worst possible lesson. But I swear to you that I did not mean for your reaction to be like that. I would have picked something else if you had a reaction like that"

Harry leaned back a bit and rubbed his face, trying to understand what the diminutive Charms teacher was saying. He wanted an Apprentice. That was something that Harry could respect. Dumbledore would probably cancel such detentions if he understood that Harry was enjoying them. And Flitwick wanted to make a point and would likely work Harry to the bone. But that didn't stop Harry from having had issues.

Harry reacted violently to being attacked. He reacted violently to being scared, to feeling small once more.

He accepted the cup of tea and added some sugar to it. He took a long drink from it, closing his eyes. "I'm claustrophobic." Harry explained after a moment. "Part of the reason I refuse to go back to my aunt and uncle is that when I was younger, up until I was eight, they would throw me into a boot cupboard under the stairs." Harry had been explaining this and thinking about it far more than he would desire. "From time to time, my uncle would come home drunk. My aunt would be upstairs, asleep. He would lumber in and drag me out of the darkness and begin to beat me with his belt. 'Beat the freakishness out' he would say." Harry swallowed a bit and set the tea down, noticing it was shaking.

"Darkness does not terrify me. Not so long as Dust is with me. Dust can see. But the cover you had provided, the walls pressing in, the mist clinging to everything… It caused my claustrophobia to flare up." He held his hand, squeezing it slightly to try and stop the shaking. "After Dust found me, I swore to myself that I would never be weak again. I turn my fear into anger. I already have an Aura and I can do rudimentary things with ice when my Aura is up. My anger is cold, biting like frost instead of a burning inferno."

If it was cold enough, nothing could stop the cold. Just like Death. War's fury would be a blazing inferno. They were meant to balance one another. But Harry hadn't found War yet.

Flitwick nodded. "Yes, and I suppose you used far too much power creating those lances of ice. Your nose was bleeding quite badly. Your core got taxed, but thankfully nothing that rest and some food won't fix. We're done with the physical for today, so for the rest of today I wish to talk to you more about the theory and philosophy, if you're still up for it."

Harry looked to Flitwick before he nodded. Learning to duel would only benefit him in the long run.

"Excellent." Flitwick said. "And I know some of what I talk about, or ask, will often not make sense in the beginning. But please, just trust me when I say that in time you will learn." Flitwick said. He held up his wand. "I, Fillius Arman Flitwick, hereby swear upon my Magic that anything Harry James Potter tells me in my office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry shall be kept a secret without his explicit permission to the contrary." Flitwick said. His magic took a red glow around him before it settled, holding the oath.

Harry blinked a moment, staring at the diminutive Charms Professor. He had not excepted a Wizard's oath to be given to him over his secrets. He wondered briefly what Flitwick would ask him.

"I do not expect you to understand my thoughts on the matter to begin with Harry, but I want you to at least answer me fully and honestly. Why do you keep your classmates at arms' reach still?" Flitwick asked, setting his wand down and leaning in slightly. "What makes you so hesitant to let down your walls?"

Harry frowned a moment. "You've noticed?" he asked.

"Harry, you have walls like a fortress around your heart. I don't think anyone hasn't noticed." Flitwick said.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes, thinking on how much to tell the small professor. "I… have difficulty connecting with the other students." He said before opening his eyes. "I've seen the world's cruelty already at a very young age. I was forced to grow up much faster than most others. I don't care for Quidditch; the sport just doesn't do anything for me."

Harry thought some more. "When I came to Hogwarts, so much potential was open for me. I wanted to learn, I had this aching need to learn. But it wasn't the usual need of Ravenclaw students to learn. I didn't care how much I learned, but I needed to understand it, to understand magic's various intrigues."

Harry stood up at this point, pacing a little bit and running his hands through his hair as his frustrations came forward. "Ravenclaw students, and even Ms. Granger, have this need to learn as much as possible but not the intricacies behind it. They shun various branches of magic because they don't wish to understand it."

Harry turned to look at Flitwick. "I want to know all forms of magic. Alchemy, Conjuration, Transfiguration, Runes, Divination, Herbology, Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, Hexes, Curses, Jinxes, Death Magic, Life Magic, ice Magic, Fire Magic, Light Magic, Dark Magic, and Grey Magic. I want to know it all; I wish to understand it all. Magic fascinates me, yet because of some fools we brand certain types of magic as 'Bad.'" Harry said.

He took his seat once more. "Think Professor. At the time of the Founding of Hogwarts, no one would bat an eye if Gryffindor had used Battle Magic to rip open a cavern to swallow up his enemies. No one would bat an eye if Hufflepuff had cast a Curse that would cause the flesh of her enemies to melt off. No one would bat an eye if Ravenclaw raised the corpses of her fallen soldiers to fight one again and again and again. No one would bat an eye if Slytherin sacrificed a volunteer, or a troll, or something of the like to charge the wards of Hogwarts. I'd be willing to bet there are at least four Wards around Hogwarts that are inactive because they haven't been charged with a Death."

Harry was on his feet once more. "Yet if I bring these thoughts to someone, anyone, I would be labeled mad or worse as Dark. I believe Necromancy to be a form of Magic that should be delved into. But the likes of Voldemort and Grindelwald have made these sorts of arts ugly, twisted things. I say Necromancy and people think about murdering another human or sentient being. I say Necromancy and I think about raising the dead with an animal like a chicken or goat."

Flitwick watched and listened as Harry spoke about something he was obviously passionate about. In the beginning when Harry had mentioned Death Magic, Flitwick had almost been terrified of Harry going Dark. Yet Flitwick listened. He listened as Harry spoke, listened as he said what was obviously on his mind for quite some time.

And Flitwick was most curious at what Harry was suggesting. "So what do you make of Sentient Sacrifice?" he asked. He needed to know if there was Darkness threatening to consume his young Ravenclaw.

"Sentient Sacrifice." Harry took his seat again and took a drink of his tea. "If it's a willing sacrifice, I do not think that it is wrong. But it has to be willing. Snuffing the life of a sentient like a goblin, a centaur, a House Elf, anything capable of such thoughts, culture, without it being willing takes this Magic and turns it into something pure evil. It's a difficult line to draw.

"Murder has long since been defined as killing someone. I think Murder should be redefined as killing someone against their will. Murder will destroy the soul. Murder will rip it to shreds. A willing sacrifice cannot be coerced into the action. Even sacrificing a non-sentient like a cow, a goat, or a chicken, it depends on what's going to be done with it once you are done. If you're going to abandon it once it's dead, then it's just wasteful." Harry shook his head. "It's these thoughts that I know I would have difficulty connecting with others."

Flitwick leaned back in his chair. "Swear to me Harry; swear to me that you will never kill a sentient outside of Self-defense. Please, swear that to me so that this old man can sleep at night."

Harry took his wand out, rolling it between his fingers. "I can't." Harry said and set his wand down on the desk, looking to Flitwick whose eyes had gone wide. "How will magic define a sentient? If I kill a cow, would that be a sentient? If I kill a troll, would that be a sentient?" Harry shook his head. "It is too vague of an oath to make."

Not to mention, would his own duties as Death interfere? He really didn't want to know if they would or not.

Flitwick looked to his wand. He felt a tremor run through him, terrified at the idea of a favorite student going so Dark as to kill another human being. But he could not argue what Harry had said. How would Magic itself define sentience? Flitwick took a deep breath, trying to think of this with more of a Goblin standpoint. "Harry," Flitwick said after a while. "I will trust you have enough judgment on this. I shouldn't, and to be honest I am terrified of you going Dark. But you seem to have a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong. Please don't prove me wrong."

Harry nodded softly, understanding what Flitwick was saying. "Yes Sir." He said.

"We got off track." Flitwick said. Horrendously off track from what he was originally going through. "But I want you to let people in. I want you to try. If for nothing else but that they can keep you from the Darkness, that Black Darkness where Right and Wrong are just words. I want you to call your peers by their first names."

Harry nodded after a moment. "I… Yes Sir." Harry wasn't going to say he would try. There was either do, or do not. And for Flitwick's trust in Harry's desires of magical learning, he would do for the stout Professor.

Chapter End

A/N: Character development!


	9. Book 1: Chapter 9

_Last Time: In a stunning performance of strength, Harry climbed Hogwarts itself before BASE jumping from the highest point he could. Flitwick in return gave Harry detentions until the Christmas Holidays every Saturday. Harry reveals his claustrophobia to Madam Pomfrey, explaining that he had felt at peace and ease atop the school. The Detentions with Flitwick turn out to be a ruse for Flitwick to begin teaching Harry how to Duel. Afterwards, Harry details his desire to learn about all magic, including some of the less moral branches such as Death Magic._

Book One: Death

Chapter 9

Harry sat in the Charms Classroom with his eyes closed, listening to Professor Flitwick lecture about the levitation spell, _Wingardium Leviosa_. He was already cranky. He had been the entire morning and would likely be the entire day. Most of the students were able to pick up on it as well.

Halloween. The Veil between the World of the Living and the World of the Dead was at its thinnest that night. In later years, he would be charged with hunting down the souls of those who had escaped from the World of the Dead. He could feel it; he could feel the Veil thinning. Even Dust had no answer for why the event occurred.

Halloween. The day everything had been viciously taken from him as a child. And yet people were already planning to celebrate the day as the day Voldemort had been destroyed. Yet no one could speak his name. It was disgusting to Harry. There was nothing he despised more than the fact that no one seemed to remember the sacrifices and losses of those that had died.

Though, Harry was pleased to note, a few people could be seen in a sort of melancholy, the likes of which he was feeling. Likely because they too had lost a lot. He had even seen a few fake smiles, trying to be strong for their friends that partied and celebrated.

Halloween was meant to be a somber event. There was no cheer to be found in it. Even Necromancers refused to try to raise the dead on Halloween. There were things beyond the Veil that even they dared not risk summoning. And with the weakened Veil, they were indeed risking summoning something.

Harry would be out there, holding the line, but Dust said he wasn't ready yet. He couldn't properly train his powers and abilities without alerting everyone in the castle to what he was doing. He really didn't want to explain to everyone what he was.

The Goblins were duty bound to keep his secret. The Sorting Hat was enchanted to keep his secrets. Trelawney, as he found the Seer's name to be, had been so deep into a trance she wouldn't remember who he was. Thus far his secret was safe.

Another year was going by and it still felt like he wasn't able to do anything. It truly pissed Harry off something awfully. Worse yet was all the beginner work Harry was doing. He knew his study into magic would be a long and tedious journey in and of itself. But it Harry was still in that impatient stage of youth.

Harry heard the calls and sounds of people attempting the spell. Still, he kept his eyes perfectly closed in thought. He directed his thoughts towards the feather before him, the first of many things they would be attempting to levitate.

Harry had been levitating things since he was eight years old though on a consistent basis. He could float the feather without his wand. Still, knowing the wand techniques behind it would help.

Harry reached out with his left hand and caught Ron's wrist, ceasing his movements. Harry opened his eyes and shook his head at the redhead slowly. Ron had been swinging his wand at the feather like he expected it to float on the first try, even with his rather atrocious enunciation of the incantation.

Harry had taken Flitwick's advice to heart. He started to call people he was more familiar with, such as his fellow Ravenclaws and a few members of the other Houses that he spoke with often enough, by their first name. Sometimes he would slip into old habits and call them by their title and their last name, but at least Harry was making an attempt.

Unfortunately, it made Ron want to cling to Harry during every class period, despite Harry making a very real attempt to sit beside someone different during each and every class period. It wasn't that he wanted to make friends with everyone; he wanted a firm grasp on the personality of each of them.

Ron also had this incessant desire to talk about Quidditch or play chess despite Harry's repeated comments that he was too busy to do such as often as Ron wanted to.

More than once Harry almost called him Mr. Weasley to get him to back off, but Flitwick talked to Harry almost daily, wanting to know how Harry's progress on the front of making friends was. Harry still wasn't sure behind the use to the exercise, but Harry would try. Flitwick seemed to know what he was talking about.

Harry brought his thoughts to the present however. At present, he had to help Ron with his atrocious spell work. "Ron," Harry began carefully. He needed to choose his words carefully because he knew Ron had insecurities because of his five older brothers. "Magic in itself is a very volatile energy." Harry said. "And as such, we need to take precautions so that we don't do anything that would hurt ourselves, or the others around us."

Ron blinked a moment. "But it's such a basic spell."

Harry shook his head with a small chuckle. '_Even the basics can kill.'_ He thought to himself. But it would be best not to mention that to Ron. "And you are unknowingly changing the spell. Lock your shoulder and your elbow. Now, swish, and flick." Harry said.

Ron sighed slightly and did the same movements he had done before but Harry clamped his hand down on Ron's wrist again. "Now what?" Ron snapped.

Harry drew his wand and held it up. "Swish." Harry rolled his wrist. "Flick." He made the barest of moments with his wrist forward. "What you are doing looks more like a swish," he rolled his wrist for the swish. "And a slash." Harry gave a swift downwards swipe of his wand. "Slashes are uncommon in Charm work, Ron. Gentle, precise, subtle. Try again and take your time to make it right. There is no need to rush. Don't put any magic behind it, just perform the movements." Harry said.

Ron sighed again but he did as Harry instructed. Once more, he did the swish correctly, that was the fairly easy part. It took a few tries but eventually he got the flick to where Harry nodded. "Anything else?" Ron asked, paying attention now.

"Enunciation. _Wingardium Leviosa_. By pronouncing it as _Leviosar_, you're changing the spell. Combine that change with your wand movements, and you're doing something dangerous. Changing a spell is dangerous in that you have no idea what the outcome will be. A fair amount of the time, it will be nothing. But, that won't always be the case and you need to plan accordingly for it." Harry explained. "So take it slow, enunciate the words syllable by syllable."

Harry watched as Ron took a moment saying it slow, syllable by syllable. Harry wasn't trying to be a teacher, but he wanted to emphasize that it took some forethought. Harry continued when he felt Ron had gotten it well enough. "Now, here's the tricky part. You must command and guide your magic. Don't force it. Visualize the feather floating. Give it restrictions. It can only float so high, go so low, go left or right, back and forth so far. Then let your magic do the rest."

Ron closed his eyes briefly, trying to get the visualization required.

"And now you put intent behind it. You will the feather to float. Combine it all together." Harry said and gave a sharp swish and flick. "_Wingardium Leviosa." _He commanded firmly, getting his feather to float on the first try with his wand. He directed it with his wand; making it perform summersaults, spin around in circles

"Well done Mr. Potter!" Flitwick said from the front of the class with a clap of his hands. "And excellent explanation of things. Mr. Weasley, feel like giving it a go?"

Ron nodded a bit shakily. Harry thought he looked a little green around the gills so he placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Breathe, relax, and take your time Ron." Harry said.

Ron nodded a bit more firmly and the shaking of his hand eased up a bit. Harry was unsure how someone with such anxiety problems was in Gryffindor, but he wasn't the Sorting Hat so he might never know. Perhaps there was more to Ron. Ron took it slowly, taking a moment. "_Wingardium Leviosa."_ Ron finally incanted.

The feather rose up off the desk, following Ron's wand to a certain height. Ron's eyes widened for a moment before Flitwick's awarding him of ten points to Gryffindor caused his concentration to break and the feather to fall back to the desk.

"Excellent work Mr. Weasley. Just remember to keep practicing and take your time with things and you'll be fine." Flitwick said before continuing to move about the class to see if others needed help with anything.

Ron turned to Harry, his eyes wide. "How did you get it so quickly?" Ron asked. "I mean you usually always get the spells done on the first try, but this one seemed even faster than normal."

Harry thought on how best to answer the question. So far, his wandless magic went unquestioned really. He was up far before the other Ravenclaws in his dorm, so they never saw him manipulate his clothes out of his trunk and to his bed. The current rumors running about when he did the levitation and summoning of his parachute was that there was a summoning charm placed on it.

Blurting out that he could do some basic wandless magic seemed stupid. He absent mindedly reached up and stroked Dust's beak a little bit. A moment of inspiration hit him. "Dust." Harry said, turning to Ron. "Dust is my familiar. He has been around for a very long time. While he doesn't teach me just any spell, Dust is quite in tune with spells that have to do with flying, levitating, anything that has something to do with the air." Harry smiled softly. "So, Dust here helped me get the general concept behind the spell." Harry said.

Harry admitted it sounded a bit weak of an excuse. But the way Dust cawed and puffed up his chest like he was proud helped seal it in Harry's mind. Ron nodded his acceptance and turned back to practicing, trying to get the wand movements down faster and crisper, his enunciation clearer and faster.

Harry sat back in his seat a little bit, petting Dust along his back.

A chill ran down his spine and he frowned. He really, really hated Halloween.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry found himself on the top of the tallest tower at Hogwarts once classes were over for the day. He had made a brief stop at Ravenclaw tower, which he could see in the distance. He had gathered his parachute and the Harvester which he kept in Scythe form for the time being.

If he got angry, it would be difficult to explain away. He found that when he got angry, the Harvester reacted and its eyes would start glowing the way his did. It would also let off an eerie rattling noise. But for the time being, it was easy to explain. He was in costume.

The black cloak and the dark hood with the scythe just made things easy to determine what he was being for Halloween, even though that wasn't the reason dressed up for. In truth, he had looked for a reason to carry around the Harvester. He couldn't shake the bad feeling away from him and in truth, it was only growing.

He lay back on the tower with a soft sigh. He had watched as students got all excited, some of them even dressing up in costume. It was… cute in a way. But Harry wasn't like the rest of them for his reason to dress up. He had dressed up for practical purposes.

First, his safety was his top priority. The Harvester practically ensured this. But he didn't want his weapon to be confiscated either. Flitwick might commend him on being prepared and armed, but he doubted the rest of the staff would be. It was easier to explain the scythe away as a prop for his costume.

Harry sighed a bit and began to watch as Dust flew around. He didn't want to be melancholy around everyone, not when they had obviously been looking forward to the Halloween celebration for some time. But to Harry, it was just another time of mourning. Mourning he couldn't properly do because he had no idea where his parents were lain to rest.

Perhaps if he could go and visit them, he would be able to let them go a bit easier. But the fact of the matter was that he could not let them go. He didn't know if their souls passed on peacefully or if they were still waiting to be taken across. He knew people would say that they were in a better place, but being the Pale Rider he knew otherwise.

There was a better place for the Dead, yes. But the fact of the matter was that not all souls got to go to the better place. Some went on to be in a horrible place, judged for all time for their crimes. And some unlucky souls… some just were unable to pass over. These souls didn't always manifest as Ghosts for the Pale Rider to come along and release from their torment. Sometimes, these souls ended up just stuck. After too long, these stuck souls would become a Shade.

A Shade lived on, in a sense, in a sort of Shadow World according to Dust. They could see the people around them, and the world for that matter. But they could not interact with it. They didn't even know when someone else was another Shade. Worse, they knew hunger, they knew thirst, and they knew exhaustion yet could not succumb to any of these. They could not eat, they could not sleep, and they could not drink.

Worse yet, unlike a Ghost, the Pale Rider could do nothing for them. Death offered no reprieve to their torment. The Shade had to be helped by a Lich. A Necromancer that had transcended their limits and become something even more powerful in their death. A Lich could bring them back from Shadedom and allow the Pale Rider to free their souls. But many Necromancers, in their efforts to transcend Death and live for eternity, damned themselves and thus damned Shades. Most Necromancers that became a Lich had a Kill on Sight sort of order for any of the Horsemen.

It was like a basic need to destroy them rose up in the Horsemen. They went against the natural order.

It was another reason Harry desperately wanted to find the budding Necromancer before they went too far into their Arts. One of the rituals to become a Lich, the one that was probably most known to Necromancers, was to sacrifice the life of a child ripped from the womb. It was a grisly crime.

Dust had once explained to Harry that the Horsemen were not inherently Good or Evil. They were Balance. For there to be life born, there must be Death to be had. For there to be peace, there must be War. For there to be a bountiful harvest, there must be Famine. For there to be healthy lives, there must Plague and Pestilence.

It was perhaps a cruel reality, but it was the reality nonetheless about what was needed to be done. Perhaps the cruelest fact was that mere children were expected to take up the roles of these forces.

With a sigh, Harry slowly stood up and allowed his back to pop. He then made his way back inside. Maybe he could get down to the kitchens to get some food.

-_Scene Break-_

Dumbledore looked over the assembled students eating dinner. He saw many of the older students sitting with their dates for the night, a Ball taking place at the recommendation of Slughorn for the evening of Halloween. It pleased Dumbledore to see so many young vibrant souls mingling and talking, celebrating the day's events.

His gaze swept over the tables slowly before pausing. He glanced up the length of the Ravenclaw table, and then back down once more and frowned slightly. There was a particular Ravenclaw missing. He wondered where they could be. "Fillius, where is Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, looking once more to the blue and bronze table.

Flitwick paused on his mutton before he wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Mr. Potter has declined to participate in the festivities Albus. I don't think I need to remind you of who was lost this fateful day ten years ago. Mr. Potter does not want to bring his own misery down on all those in attendance, something that we should be commending him for. So as for where he is, I do not know. Nor will I force him to attend something that would, undoubtedly, bring him a great deal of pain." Flitwick then went right back to his mutton.

Dumbledore looked hurt, sad, and thoughtful. He had not forgotten about Lily and James Potter's sacrifice. However, he didn't want Harry to wallow in his own misery because of the loss of his parents. Perhaps the next year Harry would be willing to attend. Dumbledore went back to his own pork chops, thinking a bit. He wanted to meet and talk with Harry a bit more, perhaps a friendlier location would be more beneficial.

Asking Harry up to his office was likely to put Harry on guard, so Dumbledore hoped to perhaps talk with him in a hallway or something. It hurt something awful having the son of a man, which Dumbledore would like to call friend, being quite guarded around him. Dumbledore had enjoyed many of James' more innocent pranks.

Plus, Dumbledore was utterly fascinated by the parachute Harry had used when jumping off of Hogwarts. He had been utterly terrified when Harry had done it, but fascinated nonetheless. He never thought of something like that. He had no idea that the Muggles had developed something like that. Perhaps he could speak with Harry about demonstrating the purposes of it at a Wizengamot meeting, help incorporate it somehow.

Just then, the doors to the Great Hall were flung open with Quirrel rushing in. "Troll! In the Dungeon! Troll, in the Dungeon!" He paused in the middle of the students, pale and wide eyed. "Thought you should know." He then went lifeless, his body going limp as he passed out.

Dumbledore was on his feet, his mind racing. He desperately began to think. The students were screaming and panicking so he raised his wand and had it give off a loud bang. "Silence!" he called out. "Students will stay here in the Great Hall, Fillius I want you to stay here with Horace, keep the students safe. Poppy, remain here as well and attempt to wake up Quirinus. Then have him meet up with the rest of the Staff in the Dungeons."

Dumbledore began to move quickly, his wand in hand. Many of the others following him out of the Great Hall. He knew, most of all, that he could trust McGonagall at his back. She would be able to help take on a Troll. The others, like Sinistra and Vector, he wasn't entirely sure about. But he would see if they had enough power to help corral and take down a troll.

The Great Hall was probably the best defensive position in the castle if a Troll was on the loose.

-_Scene Break, Start of the Feast-_

Harry checked the time as he started his way down towards the ground floor to try and find the Kitchens. The Feast had probably just started. That was fine. He'd nip down to the kitchens for a sandwich, and then head back to Ravenclaw tower to retire early. Hopefully he could completely sleep through whatever was the problem with that night.

He wanted whatever bad feeling he had to blow completely over so that he didn't have to worry about it at all. He was already paranoid enough as it was. He didn't want to be thinking about what could possible go wrong.

He made it down to the fourth floor where he heard what sounded like sobbing. He sighed softly, looking to the stairs and the door leading down to the kitchens. He sighed again. "I'm too nice a guy." He said. He turned on his heel and headed into the Fourth Floor corridor.

He followed the sounds of crying towards the girl's bathroom and he wanted to groan. Instead, he knocked on the door with the scythe, banging it heavily against the wood to alert the person inside. "Go away!"

"Great, Hysterical girl." Harry said to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to come in if I don't have to Hermione." Harry called out. "So why don't you come out so I can ask what's wrong to your face?"

Harry hadn't expected much, but eventually Hermione came out. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks red and clearly stained with tears. Her eyes blinked a moment as she took in Harry's appearance.

Harry grinned a bit cheekily under his robe, knowing the hood covered his face. With both hands behind his back, he pushed his aura up a bit, just enough to make his hands skeletal. "Death approaches Hermione Granger." Harry said, bringing his hands out from behind his back, waving them a bit. He made his voice sound over dramatic, ruining most of the effect of his Deathly Aura.

Hermione gave an unladylike snort and tried to cover her mouth with her hands. "I'm sorry Harry, I didn't mean to laugh." She said.

Harry shrugged a bit. "No problem, come on." He led her over to a set of chairs that was there to act as a sort of common area for students that were early to class. He sat down and propped his feet up on the coffee table, looking utterly relaxed. "So… Ms. Granger, how may this Reaper help you today?"

Hermione snorted again but this time it turned into a bit of a weak laugh. "I can't believe you. Dressing like the Grim Reaper of all people." Hermione admonished softly. "And what did you do to your hands? Where did you get that scythe?"

Harry looked to his hands briefly. "Oh this? This is just a simple glamour." He said and pushed his Aura down so that his hands looked normal. Thankfully, she couldn't see his face going back through the transformation also or she might have called him out on that. "As for the Scythe…" Harry looked at it thoughtfully. "Found it actually."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "How on earth did you possibly find that?"

"Well, a scythe is a weapon, and this is a castle, so it stands to reason there is an armory somewhere." Harry said. "I didn't find such a thing, but my point stands. Anyways, what's wrong with you? What had you in the bathroom crying your eyes out?"

Hermione bowed her head a bit, as though she was ashamed of what had happened and she didn't want to say anything. Harry waited though, he wasn't going to be mean or rude or anything to the girl for what made her cry. But he realized that she hadn't quite been done crying and was quietly sobbing.

Harry closed his eyes and didn't make a noise. But in truth, he had no clue how to handle a crying girl. Dust was no help in the manner either. Harry's exposure to girls was vastly limited, and as such he wasn't sure how to comfort one. Still, he had to make an attempt or else he wouldn't get an answer out of the girl.

Perhaps he should walk away, the thought had occurred to him on more than one occasion. He didn't know Hermione, he wasn't in her House. However, he had assured Flitwick he would try to be more personable, let people within his Fortress of Walls around his heart.

Harry reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. "I cannot help Hermione, if I do not know what is wrong." He said.

"It's just so many things." Hermione said, sniffling a bit. "I'm a bit homesick, my parents were my pillars when I was going through the teasing of the other students back in Primary school and I can't contact them. The school owls aren't the best of owls, and while they would make the trip, I don't want them to scare my mom or dad either." She said.

Harry nodded slowly, understanding. That was perhaps the easiest fix he had. "If I'm not using Ashes, I'll send him your way. Send him to your parents. Ashes is an intelligent owl, if you tell him to remain out of sight, he'll remain out of sight." Harry said.

Hermione blinked a moment like what Harry had said was completely alien to her. She then threw her arms around him. "Oh Harry! Thank you!" she called out, squeezing him tight.

Harry began to struggle and pried her off. "Okay, new personal rule. No hugging." Harry said. "I don't do very well with physical contact. If you absolutely must hug me, do it from the side and give me a way out. I tend to react violently to things I'm not comfortable with. It's not you Hermione, I promise." Harry said, looking to the bushy haired witch.

Hermione's eyes had been wide but they softened as he spoke and reassured her. Harry really wasn't sure why he bothered. He didn't need to explain himself to her; he didn't need to explain that he was uncomfortable being trapped like that. She was just lucky that he hadn't used the Harvester on her when she did hug him.

"Now what else is wrong?" Harry asked. "I don't think that it's just not being able to talk things out with your parents after school every day anymore."

Hermione nodded softly. "It's the other girls in my dorm. I just… I can't connect with them. All they want to talk about is fashion and similar such nonsense. I've tried even talking to the Ravenclaw girls but they snub me. I get called a nosey know it all." She said.

"Well…" Harry said. It would be the pot calling the kettle black. "You are." He said. He held his hand up to forestall her comment. "I never said it was a bad thing just that you are. That is one of your defining traits is that you are an intelligent young Witch. The others might not even be meaning it as an insult, they likely are and I will be having a conversation with them about it, but I don't know off the top of my head.

"My point, Hermione, is that you are an intelligent young witch that also wants to see everyone around her do well. So you are nosey in that you're getting into others' business, and you are a know it all. I bet I could start naming off Second Year spells and you'd be able to tell me the incantation and the use of the spell. But at the same time, you need to back off a little bit. You need to learn to just enjoy things or else you're going to burn out." Harry was acutely aware that he should take his own advice. "Take me for example, I exercise to relieve stress and have fun. I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie."

"You did BASE jump off of Hogwarts. What in the world possessed you to do that anyways?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "It was fun, seemed like a good idea at the time, and I wanted to test myself."

If Hermione rolled her eyes any harder, Harry would have heard it. "Anything else oh wise Wizard?" she asked.

"I'm not Gandalf." Harry said admonished. "But don't try to help others. No disrespect, but you have no aptitude to be a teacher. You'd do better in a research role. You're the type that wants to give a lot of dry facts and statistics, the way Binns used to. Let someone else cut through that clutter and get to the really important information themselves."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

Harry brought his hands to his face trying to best describe it. "You have a tendency to give too much information. You probably realize this, so compensate by trying to give just enough to get your point across, yet it can come off as condescending. And no eleven year old wants to be talked down to; it's in our very natures to rebel."

Hermione nodded softly. "So what should I do?" she asked.

"Make yourself available to help others, but let them come to you." Harry said simply. He stood up and picked up the Harvester. "Come on, I'll walk you down to the Great Hall where we'll part ways. I'm heading to the kitchens to eat instead."

Hermione rose to her feet and nodded. The two then began to make their way from the fourth floor down. Hermione wrinkled her nose as they entered the Grand Staircase. "What on earth is that smell?" she asked. There was quite a foul smell in the air.

"I'm not entirely sure." Harry said as he kept moving further down, clutching the Harvester tighter.

They were at the second floor. "Harry, do you notice something odd?" Hermione asked.

Harry glanced around. Aside from the smell, he hadn't really noticed anything strange. Yet with attention being drawn to it, he noticed it immediately. The stairs weren't moving, the suits of armor were still, and the paintings were frozen in place.

Harry heard a thud at the bottom of the steps as they made it to the First Floor landing. He stared as the lumbering form moved into view. The source of the smell was found as it came out of a secret passage way. The mountain troll looked up to them from the bottom of the steps.

Harry hated Halloween.

End Chapter

A/N: I hated this chapter. It didn't want to write.


	10. Book 1: Chapter 10

_Last Time: Harry is cranky over Halloween but still manages to help Ron understand the _Wingardium Leviosa_ charm. He later helps Hermione out and is leading her down to the Great Hall for supper, only to encounter a troll._

Book One: Death

Chapter 10

Ten seconds. It was an incredibly short amount of time. And yet, in those ten seconds, Harry's mind had already raced through his spells and his weapons that he had on him. Ten seconds was all it took for his mind to come to one simple fact of the matter that was undeniable, no matter how much he wished for it to be otherwise.

He was not ready to fight a Mountain Troll head on.

"Run!" Harry barked out to Hermione, throwing his hand back and turning to get back up the stairs. He felt something grip his heart, something he had not experienced in a long time but was quite intimately familiar with.

Fear. Fear gripped him.

And yet, as the cold grasp of fear gripped him, making his heart pound fiercely, Harry came to a second conclusion. It was a conclusion that would test his resolve, test every skill he had at his command. It was not a pleasant feeling that he had circulating in his gut, but it eventually settled to feel like lead.

He had to bait the Mountain Troll.

Harry's wand flashed to his hand and he turned briefly to face the Mountain troll that was lumbering up. It seemed to debate between chasing them and going into a hallway. Harry sent a Stinging Hex at it, nailing it in the side of the head. He sent three more before the Mountain Troll decided to keep going after the both of them.

"Are you Mad?!" Hermione cried out, having seen what he had been doing, pausing a moment.

Harry holstered his wand with a mere thought and quickly worked his robes off, chucking them over the railing as he ran. He had to shift the Harvester in his hands, but he quickly had a bit more maneuverability, sending another three Stinging Hexes at the Mountain Troll.

"No!" Harry barked at Hermione. "Now keep running! We have to distract it and keep it from entering a Hallway." At least in the Grand Staircase, there was room for the Professors to enter, through one of the various secret passages. If the Mountain Troll got into a hallway, or Merlin Forbid a Dorm, then the Professors had to try and enter with the Mountain Troll already inside, giving them less room to fight as well.

It had to remain in the Grand Staircase at all costs.

Harry's eyes scanned the portraits, desperately looking for one to be moving to send for help. Yet they were all frozen into place, forced to be plain regular portraits until the spell worn off. His mind raced through the information he knew about Mountain Trolls, and it wasn't pretty.

The true classification of a Mountain Troll had been argued for centuries. It shared few characteristics with other Trolls, such as a Swamp or a Snow Troll. It did not share the weakness for Fire that plagued the Troll species in general. On the other hand, it did not have quite the regenerative abilities either. Swamp and Sea Trolls were known for being able to form into two Trolls if they had a limb cut off and there was no fire to be had. Given the Mountain Troll's size as well, being larger than regular Trolls which were already bigger than your average man, many wanted to classify a Mountain Troll as a subspecies of Giants.

However, that didn't quite work either. While Giants were volatile in nature as they were, they generally didn't fight amongst each other unless there was food or space at stake. Yet put a group of Mountain Trolls near a group of Giants, and the Giants would absolutely butcher the Mountain Trolls.

And unfortunately all of that information wasn't helping the current situation, as dire as it was.

"How did a Troll get inside the School?" Hermione cried as she kept running higher.

"Wrong question." Harry said, easily keeping pace with her and sending Stinging Hexes at the Mountain Troll when it looked like he was going to overtake her. "You should be asking 'Who' and 'Why'!"

How was easy to figure out. Someone purposely let it inside the School. And it could hardly be a coincidence that all the Stairs and Portraits were frozen in the Grand Staircase also. It meant that the Troll was some sort of distraction.

Hermione had arrived at the Seventh Floor steps, nowhere else to go. "Where do we go now?" she cried out.

Harry glanced to the Mountain Troll on the sixth floor, and steadily coming up after them. He then glanced to the Harvester and over the edge of the railing to the ground floor. Harry glanced up, seconds passing by. The lumbering footsteps behind them were deafening.

Harry threw the Harvester with all of his might. The scythe blade sank into the stone ceiling of the Grand Staircase sticking out quite rigidly. Harry then glanced to Hermione and grabbed her shoulders. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"No offense, but not really!" Hermione said panicking as the Mountain Troll loomed ever closer.

"Good answer!" Harry said with a grin. He wrapped an arm around her waist anyways and stepped up onto the railing and jumped. In under a second of the jump, he yanked the cord to his parachute. It wrenched out of the backpack and slowed them down.

They still came in fast and slammed down at the Third Floor. Harry positioned himself to take the brunt of the landing, grunting at the impact. He scrambled to get the Parachute off and Hermione up on her feet. His ears were still ringing from where Hermione had screamed the entire way down.

Harry smacked Hermione's cheeks, seeing she was unresponsive. That quickly got her attention. "Get to the Great Hall. Get some help." Harry told her, pointing down the stairs.

Hermione glanced down the stairs and nodded, starting to go. She was breathing heavily, having run and panicked more than she ever had before. "What about you though?" she asked, realizing Harry wasn't following her. Instead, he was going back up the steps.

Harry glanced to Hermione. "I'm keeping it distracted at all costs. We cannot let it get into a Hallway; we cannot let it get into a Dorm. It'll be a bloodbath of the Professors, no matter how good they are." It was simple tactics in Harry's mind. A large creature that could destroy walls in an enclosed space with a perfectly formed funnel in the way of a door against frail older witches and wizards whose spells would quickly drain them of their energy.

It was a no contest.

Harry glanced up at the Troll while Hermione ran, heading for the Great Hall. In truth, Harry had a Mountain Troll to kill now that the variables had changed. He unsheathed his knife to go with his wand.

-_Scene Break-_

It was time to end the charade of being asleep. Quirrel slowly opened his eyes and checked to make sure the turban was in place. It would not due to have anyone see his Master. His Master was already furious that even one person had seen him in such a weakened state. For anyone else to see him in such a state would be a death sentence.

"Oh Quirinus, you're awake!" Pomfrey moved to come and check on him.

He waved her off. "I-I-It's al-al-alright-t-t P-P-P-Poppy." Quirrel couldn't believe that the fools took him for a stuttering and simpering fool. He was anything but. He knew Dark Arts the likes of which none of them could imagine, knowledge his Master so graciously allowed for him to know. "Wh-Wh-What a-a-a-about th-th-the T-T-Troll." He asked.

"Albus and the others have not yet returned from the Dungeons." Pomfrey said.

Quirrel nodded and rose. "I b-b-best g-g-go help. Th-th-the sh-sh-sh-shock of s-s-seeing one s-s-so s-s-s-suddenly w-w-was t-t-t-too m-m-much. I-I-I'm b-b-better pr-pr-prepared n-n-now." Quirrel then headed to the staff entrance and made his way out of the Great Hall.

He frowned once out of eyesight and began to move off. He was suddenly filled with confidence, his back straight and the shaking stopping. He stepped through a secret passage that led directly to the Third Floor.

Briefly, he went out to the Grand Staircase, seeing a student rushing up behind the Troll two floors up. From the sight of the Parachute, Quirrel went out on a limb and believed it to be Potter. If Potter died, then his Master would likely be upset.

On the other hand, if a mere Troll killed Harry Potter, then he was obviously not as great as his Master, and thus the first time, while unfortunate, had been a mere fluke.

He made his way towards the door where he knew the Stone was being kept. He only knew of his trap in place. It would not be terribly sophisticated to make his way through the traps however. He had the knowledge of his Master at his disposal.

Quirrel flicked his wand and the bolted door opened with hardly an effort. He stepped inside only to be met with hot breath. Quirrel's eyes widened at the sight of the Cerberus that started to rise so it could lunge. It had been unexpected. He backed away and shut the door, locking it once more.

Quirrel seethed slightly. It would seem he would have to deal with that oaf Hagrid. It wouldn't be terribly difficult. A bit of brandy and the man would start singing his secrets. Perhaps he could look into getting a Dragon's egg for a game of poker. Make it look like he was worried Hagrid couldn't take care of the Dragon. Of course, he didn't care if Hagrid could or not. If the Dragon ate him, all the better.

Quirrel thought for a moment. Perhaps he should also probe into what the other Professors offered for traps guarding the stone. Dumbledore had not been a fool when he devised the traps.

He had started at the back, and one by one he had brought a Professor down to series of rooms that would guard the stone. The Professors would bring down what they had to offer, and from there they would leave, never knowing what was before or after theirs.

He had time. But it would require going to hunt for another Unicorn or two while he waited.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry was amazed at how fast he worked through the scenario in his head. He knew there were various unaccounted variables that could throw it off. He didn't know how fast or reactive this particular Mountain Troll was.

He knew the real reason that he had come up with the idea so quickly. He was utterly prepared for defeat. He was prepared for his body to be crushed, his bones destroyed beyond repair. It terrified him, but he kept thinking of those like Ron, Hermione, Millicent, Susan, Terry, Su, Padma, Anthony. If he didn't do this, if he didn't risk himself, they could be the ones broken and hurt.

And to Harry, that was unacceptable.

He kept sending Stinging Hexes up at the Mountain Troll while he ran. To a human, this many would likely put them in anaphylactic shock. Yet to the Mountain Troll, with its magically resistant skin, at best it was like someone throwing pebbles at it.

Pebbles that hit it in the face and eyes, but pebbles nonetheless.

Harry needed to get back to the Seventh floor. So Harry had to run up and down the stairs between the Sixth and Fifth floors, drawing the Mountain Troll away from the Seventh Floor. Then it was the Fourth and Fifth Floor.

Harry made his attempt. He rushed up the stairs, holstering his wand. The Mountain Troll was on the Fifth Floor landing when he made his attempt. Harry pivoted around its massive feet so he wouldn't be stepped on when it tried to turn around. He then drove his knife into its thigh with all his strength, giving a slight cry as he drove the knife right up to its hilt before rushing up the stairs to the Sixth Floor.

There was a bellow of rage and anger before it began to lumber up after him, not at all impeded by the knife stuck in its leg. Still, Harry was just a bit faster, running up the steps a bit faster. He made it to the Seventh Floor by the time the Mountain Troll got to the Sixth Floor landing.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!" _Harry's wand was out once more and the spell connected with the Mountain Troll's club. He wasn't sure if dropping the club on the Mountain Troll's head would work, so he directed the club off the banister, hearing it hit the floor with a hard thud.

The Mountain Troll looked and sounded confused, looking over the railing. Harry sighed and pointed his wand at it and cast Stinging Hexes at its face until it turned and took one right to the eye. It let out a roaring bellow and charged at Harry.

"Come on." Harry said, putting his wand away, watching as the Mountain Troll trudged up the stairs, and quickly gaining speed. "Come on, come on, come one!" Harry shouted the last one, his wand coming out to send a Gouging Hex, courtesy of Flitwick's training the past Saturday. Harry saw it practically start running at this point.

Harry hopped up onto the railing, hearing the thundering getting closer. He turned his back to the Mountain Troll and jumped. Every muscle in his body pushed propelling himself through the air.

There was a second crash rubble and chunks of the banister flying at Harry as he pumped his arms and legs, trying to go just a few inches higher and farther. He caught the shaft of the Harvester in his right hand and it went limp, letting him swing as it extended.

It came free and he quickly landed on the Fifth Floor landing with a hard thud and a groan. He scrambled to get onto his feet and looked over the railing, breathing heavily as he looked down. The Mountain Troll was unmoving at Ground Floor.

Harry quickly raced down, the Harvester wrapping around his arm and resting on his hand as he ran. Adrenaline was surging through him, making the aches and pains go away for the time being. He got down to the Ground Floor, hearing the labored breathing of the Mountain Troll.

Harry commanded the Harvester into scythe form, hearing the pitiful sounds of the Mountain Troll. He closed his eyes and raised the Scythe as high as he could. "I'm sorry." He whispered. Not for killing the Mountain Troll, no. He had almost certainly decided that it would die, just to keep it from harming anyone.

He was sorry that it had to suffer, that it did not die on impact from a seven story fall. Nothing, not even an enemy should be made to suffer. Harry's scythe slashed down, severing the spinal column of the massive beast. The enchantments on the Harvester made its magically thick hide seem about the strength of butter.

Harry hacked at the neck for another six swings before the head was free and he was absolutely certain it was dead. He didn't hear any noise after the initial cut, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. Harry slumped against the body, feeling blood pooling around him. He didn't care.

He spotted his knife, still in the side of the upper thigh and he reached down, yanking it free.

Harry thought he was going to be sick about his first kill.

-_Scene Break, Moments Earlier-_

Flitwick could tell that the rest of his Ravenclaws were nervous as he paced up and down the Great Hall, his wand out and prepared to do anything. He had sealed the larger doors shut so they would not open, but left the smaller door at the bottom right open so that a person could come through.

One of his Ravens was in danger. But he was forced to sacrifice one of the few to protect the many. It had his anger all sorts of acting up. Quirrel had already left, instead of letting Flitwick leave to try and find Harry.

So the diminutive Charms Professor paced back and forth. Slughorn was well liked enough that he was able to take the reins of leadership and have all Four Houses listen to him, especially with a Troll on the loose.

Flitwick's wand flashed up as the door opened. "Oh Ms. Granger, thank goodness you are safe." Flitwick said, lowering his wand. "Go to your table and await further instructions." Flitwick said about to resume his pacing.

"Harry's in trouble, he's keeping the Troll in the Grand Staircase." Hermione said when she managed to breathe well enough.

Flitwick's eyes widened and his wand lashed out at the stone he was standing upon. Flames etched a rough diamond shape around his feet before it rose up and began to move forward. He had devised the spell to help with travel given his smaller frame.

Dumbledore and the others were heading to the Dungeon and Flitwick was heading for the troll. He could only hope that Harry managed to stay alive until he got there. It was why he was leaving the students. He knew where the Troll was and could keep it contained there, possibly defeat it.

Sometimes saving the one saved the many.

Flitwick cast a Patronus with a message to Dumbledore. The Raven shot through the walls and air, heading for Dumbledore. Flitwick practically heard his heart pounding as he heard the massive crash. He pushed his little rock platform to the fastest speed he could, zooming up the stairs and down the Hallway towards the Grand Staircase.

As a part Goblin, Flitwick was highly in tune with particular branches of magic. He felt something that sent a ripple through him. Four Wards around Hogwarts sprang to life, humming with such bright intensity. Flitwick knew the feel of the wards. Death Magic protecting Hogwarts.

A Blasting Hex on the door blew it clear off its Hinges. Flitwick feared the worst as he headed into the Grand Staircase. Dumbledore and the others arrived in a separate passage way, seeing something that utterly shocked the Charms Professor.

Harry had looked up at the door being blasted off its hinges. His wand was in his hand, a Gouging Hex on the tip of his tongue. He lowered it slowly, seeing it was Flitwick. He let out a deep sigh of relief. He then saw Dumbledore and the rest of the staff.

"Harry, my boy, what have you done?" Dumbledore asked staring wide eyed at the body of the Troll.

Harry was too tired and too sore to play the games with the old man. He slowly stood up, his clothes absolutely soaked in blood. He was even too tired to reprimand Dumbledore for the familiar way he used his name. Harry put his wand back in its holster, the knife having already been placed a while ago.

"I did what needed to be done." Harry said and began to limp off. "Now, I'm going to get a shower, and I'm going to get some rest." He said as he began to climb the stairs slowly. His body ached something fierce, and he desperately wanted to go to sleep.

He was coming down hard from the adrenaline rush he had. But that was to be expected.

He grabbed his parachute and continued walking up the stairs, his scythe tapping against the stones while the parachute dragged behind him.

Harry hated Halloween.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry had been thinking the past few days. It was now the Sunday after the Troll Incident. Several things were not adding up in his mind about the incident. Like the reason the Troll had been let loose in the school. Admittedly, Harry believed that was because there was something worthwhile being kept in the Third Floor corridor.

Flitwick hadn't hounded Harry the day before in his 'detention.' Instead, Harry was pretty much given a bunch of free time to do whatever he wanted. Flitwick had been curious about the scythe and had even asked about it.

Harry had quite politely declined to mention it in the slightest or where it came from. He simply told Flitwick it had been instrumental in keeping Harry's life.

But despite all of these things, none of them were the real things that Harry had been thinking about the past few days. He had been thinking about the near reckless way he had almost sacrificed his life. There were still dozens of things he needed to have done before he could die and he had almost ran headlong into his death like some sort of fool.

Even Dust had berated him for such reckless actions.

It meant that Harry was going to need to act. He had gotten complacent.

Harry rolled out of his bed, glancing at his Dorm mates who were passed out and snoring slightly, getting ready for the next day. Harry dressed in a pair of black slacks and a long sleeved black sweater that hugged his body. He then picked up the Harvester and let it wrap around his left arm. The wand went on his right forearm.

It was unacceptable anymore. It was time to fulfill some of the things he had told himself he would set about doing.

"Dust." Harry whispered and his familiar snapped awake and came over to land on Harry's shoulder. The crow gave a small caw. Harry petted Dust slightly before he began to head down to the Common Room. He glanced around, seeing all the others had gone up to bed.

He made his way out of the Common Room and began to head down the Ravenclaw Tower. As he walked, he began to draw up his Deathly Aura. Undoubtedly it would alert the Ghosts, but it would also keep the Prefects from going near him as he headed down towards the Third Floor.

Harry looked at the lock on the door and pointed his wand at it, offering a small jab with the incantation. The lock surprisingly clicked open.

He glanced down at the dusty floor and saw there to be several sets of footprints. He estimated there had been at least eight people that had come before him. He frowned a moment before he entered through the door.

Harry looked to the Cerberus and watched as it began to get up, no doubt alerted by his Deathly Aura. It backed up a bit, barking and growling until its paws were off the trap door. Harry walked forward and watched as it backed up until it hit the back wall.

Harry used his wand to raise the trapdoor, never taking his eyes off the growling Cerberus. It was a cornered animal, faced with the prospect of Death.

Harry didn't look; he just jumped down into the darkness below the trap door. Almost immediately, he felt something slithering over him, squeezing him and he began to panic, feeling it enclose around him. He needed to see it though; he desperately needed to know what was attacking him and Dust. "_Lumos_!" he cried out.

He fell another five feet, landing on his back. The yellow light offered by the spell allowed Harry to see the slithering of the plant, shooting back towards the wall. Harry slowly stood up, spinning on his heel. Fear gripped him and it quickly morphed into anger. And then he realized what it was. It was Devil's Snare, a plant that absolutely loathed any form of light.

Harry felt even more anger at himself for feeling fear at such a plant. Taking a deep breath, he clutched his wand tighter and heard the rattling of the Harvester as it responded to his anger.

He seriously needed to get over his Claustrophobia.

Harry continued along the path, hearing hundreds of wings fluttering. As he entered, he glanced around. He saw a half dozen brooms or so just floating there. He headed for the door and checked it, using the Unlocking Charm to no avail. He glanced up at the fluttering.

Harry recognized it at Professor Flitwick's challenge. The charmed keys were fluttering about in various directions. He also recognized that Flitwick wouldn't just have such a simple solution as to find the key and put it in the door.

Harry turned to the door. He didn't have time to go up in the air and risk things. He put his wand away and extended the Harvester to a full scythe. He slashed into the wood, cleaving it clean through. He then pushed half the door open and headed through, closing the door behind him. Just in time too as the sound of the keys slamming into the door was heard.

Harry stared at the next challenge as torches quickly lit up the area. He sighed at the giant chess board. He tried to circumvent it and go past the white pieces, but the pawns drew their swords at his approach. He could probably hack them to pieces with the Harvester, but it would put his back at risk.

Harry put the Harvester away and looked at the Black Pieces. He moved over and climbed atop the Queen, sitting on her shoulders. It would give him the best view of the entire board.

The game quickly began in earnest and Harry made quick work of the challenge. It was a challenging game of Chess, but Harry still got check mate in the end.

He climbed down from the Queen and headed into the next room.

Fear spiked through him, before settling to anger once more. Inside was a Troll that was quite asleep. It was also a great deal bigger than the one he had previously fought, and it had armored plates on its body and a spiked cudgel as well. Harry did not want to fight this beast.

He crept along until he made it to the next room. Fire flared up upon both sides, blocking the doors quite effectively. Undoubtedly it was cursed fire that would kill Harry should he attempt to pass through it.

"If only I had the cowl." Harry murmured as he went to the table and began to read the test of logic. He scoffed at it and rolled his eyes.

He made short work of discerning which potion was which and he picked both up. He drank the potion to move forward and came to a plain room, in which sat a ruby red stone on a raised platform. Harry moved over to the stone and picked it up. He expected some great challenge and yet…

And yet, nothing happened. With a shrug of his shoulders, he put it in his pocket and turned walking out.

As he walked out, he thought of how he would have made each and every trap lethal. There would not have been a potion to let someone through the flames. He would have just made all the bottles poisons.

The Mountain Troll was a nice touch. He would give it that. But it was sleeping, making it a piss poor guard.

The chess set should have attacked him, even after achieving Check Mate. His guard would have been down, and he would have likely been severely injured.

The winged keys should have forced you to participate in their likely dangerous game. The door should have been swapped out with an iron door that wouldn't be blasted open, cut through, or the lock picked.

Harry cast _Lumos_ inside the room with the Devil's Snare. He would have filled the room with poisonous spores. He launched the Harvester at the trapdoor and caught it before he let it yank him up.

He landed inside with the Cerberus and turned, glaring at it to make it back up as his Deathly Aura flared up. The Cerberus he would have replaced with a dragon.

"One down, one to go." Harry told himself as he began to make his way towards the Seventh Floor. Again, he kept up his Deathly Aura to keep anyone from wanting to particularly come after him. If a Prefect came along to try and take points and give him a detention, Harry would have to punch them for coming towards what was giving off such an intense Aura.

He made it to the spot where he felt the strongest concentration and frowned at the sight of just a brick wall. He lightly knocked on the stone, getting nothing in return. His frown intensified. He moved back and sat down, rubbing his chin.

He then thought of something that Dust had told him. '_If you want to know every nook and cranny of a place of establishment, ask the servants.'_ Of course, nowadays that meant asking those that were in charge of the upkeep of the establishment.

But for here at Hogwarts… "I call upon the Servants of this Castle!" Harry declared, standing up once more.

He waited, and waited, and waited and frowned a bit. Just as he was about to leave, to get some sleep so he wasn't the walking dead in the morning, there was a loud pop. He saw a House Elf like the one Flitwick had summoned. "Headmaster Dumblydore forbids Students from callings upon us." The House Elf squeaked, admonishing with its finger.

Harry stood straighter. "I am a Guest of this Castle that you serve. Are you saying that you would deny me basic hospitality in answering a question based on a man that is not your master? You are bound, not to the Headmaster, but instead to the school, are you not?"

The House Elf squeaked a bit and bowed. "Forgives me, Sir. Forgives me. We is never thinkings of that. We is hearings students' calls but cannots answer. We wishes to serve Sir."

Harry nodded and gently patted the House Elf on its head. "What is behind this wall?" Harry asked, pointing to it. "And how do I get to it?"

The House Elf looked to where Harry pointed and then looked around. "That Sir, thats is the Come and Go Room. Hogwarts knows the needs of her Guests. If yous walks by the wall three times, and thinks of yous needs, Hogwarts will supply a room."

Now wasn't that fascinating? Harry looked at the wall a bit more interested now, noting the portrait of Barnaby the Barmy. Harry began to pace, not thinking of anything. He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes. '_I need where things are hidden. I need where things are lost. I need where things are forgotten.'_

He opened his eyes on the third pass and saw the door there. He opened it slowly and gasp at the feel of the Death Magic. He swallowed heavily and steeled himself. He glanced to the House Elf waiting expectantly. "You did well, you are no longer required."

The House Elf bowed lowly, its big ears touching the floor before it popped away.

Harry began to walk through the room, glancing around. He saw a many things, mostly junk to be honest. Fang Frisbees, potions that were spoiled, broken broomsticks, ruined robes, even cauldrons that were broken.

His feet took him to a Bust of quite the hideous witch. But on top of it was a silver diadem. He frowned at it, immediately recognizing it as Rowena Ravenclaw's long lost Diadem. The Death Magic radiated from it quite evilly.

He reached out with his wand and used that to lift it up. He glanced around and eventually came to a silk sack whose contents he spilled out. He put the diadem in the sack and tied it off carefully. He would go to Flitwick immediately in the morning. For now though, he needed to head back to bed.

"Two for two." Harry said softly as he headed out.

He would remember the room; it would be perfect for his needs.

End Chapter

A/N: There you go! We're finally picking things up again!


	11. Book 1: Chapter 11

_Last Time: Despite the odds being stacked against him, Harry managed to get Hermione to safety to alert the professors of the Mountain Troll. Then, using wit, a bit of bravery, and a helping of luck, Harry has his first kill in the form of the Mountain Troll. But that was not all, afterwards he went and retrieved the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, the source of Death Magic from inside Hogwarts' walls, as well as a blood red stone from the Third Floor corridor, making his way past all of the traps and challenges._

Book One: Death

Chapter 11

Harry awoke later than he normally did. Late enough that he sat up and glanced around, putting his glasses on to take a look around. Upon seeing his dorm mates rousing and moving to get up, Harry rose and grabbed his things. He headed for the shower and took a quick one.

He dried off and dressed quickly in his school uniform. His knife went to his left arm and his wand went to his right, just like always.

He then headed to his trunk, greeting the others that moved into the bathroom to do their morning rituals, just as Harry had just done so. He took the time they were gone to access the guarded compartment of his trunk. He gently petted the Harvester and took out the silk bag that contained the Diadem.

He tucked that into his school bag before rising up and heading down the stairs. He had Charms first thing with Flitwick, though that didn't mean much. Just that Harry had a brief moment of time to speak with his Head of House between breakfast and then his class. Still, he wasn't going to interrupt either thing for Flitwick's attention, even if this was an urgent matter.

Harry headed down to breakfast with Dust settling on his shoulder, offering little caws. He found himself mostly agreeing with his familiar on what it was saying. Harry wanted, desperately, to keep this away from the prying eyes of Dumbledore.

On a gut feeling, Harry also wanted to keep it away from Quirrel. He would have been, perhaps, his first choice, being a Defense against the Dark Arts Professor. But there was something about Quirrel that rubbed Harry wrong. Like there was a wrongness to him that needed eradicated. Harry couldn't tell what it was, even though Dust had commented that as a Rider he should have attacked already.

Harry needed some more proof than a gut feeling on the wrongness. There needed to be proof. It had caused some tension between him and Dust, but eventually Dust settled and let Harry do things his way. They were, after all, destroying one of the vile constructs that had been plaguing Harry's thoughts.

Harry entered the Great Hall and saw that Professor Flitwick was already working on his morning breakfast. He headed up along the Ravenclaw table, no one bothering to try and stop him anymore. It was a sort of tradition to sit by year, with First Years at the far end of the table and the Seventh Years near the Staff. Harry chose to sit up by the Staff simply because the upper years would generally leave him alone to do his work while eating.

But Harry didn't take his usual seat, he continued up to the Staff Table, stepping in front of Professor Flitwick. "Professor, I would like a moment of your time at your earliest convenience. It is a matter of fair importance, so the sooner would be better." Harry said.

Flitwick sat back in his seat a moment, looking up to Harry. "What about Mr. Potter?" he asked. He was quite curious to the turn of events.

Harry bit his tongue a moment. "It's a bit of research." Harry said after a moment. Flitwick was the only one that knew of Harry's desire to learn all magic, to learn why they worked the way they worked. By being quite vague about some research, Flitwick would be less inclined to ask more questions around the other teachers who might not be so open with Harry's ambitions.

The Hat did say Slytherin would suit him well.

Flitwick nodded. "Very well Mr. Potter. Meet me before class begins and I will see if I can help you." As Harry began to move back to his usual seat to settle in for breakfast, Flitwick decided to speak up. "Mr. Potter, why did you ask me for a moment of my time at my earliest convenience instead of simply coming to me before class started?" he asked

Harry chuckled softly and turned to face Flitwick. "Ah, that should be rather obvious." At seeing the other Professors listening in, as well as some of the upper year students, Harry couldn't help but chuckle some more.

"Professor, you are a twelve time world class Dueling Champion." Harry said. "The fan mail alone must be utterly staggering. Not to mention requests from people for you to train them, or from sponsors that desperately want to see you back on the circuit, putting another notch in your wand holster under their sponsorship.

"You are a Charms Master of International Accreditation. I cannot imagine the number of requests you get weekly from people, the World over, for you to take them, or a family member, on as an Apprentice. Each of these you have to respond to without making any enemies, which means taking the time to read through each and every one of them and explaining to them why you are not accepting an Apprentice at the moment.

"You're Head of House to the most students here at Hogwarts. There are forty-two Ravenclaws. As Head of House, you have to deal with things from simple Homesickness, to more serious things like bullying. Then there are your Seventh Year students, undoubtedly trying to get a head start on getting a job before leaving Hogwarts, which means they could ask you for ideas, opinions, and even a letter of recommendation.

"Lastly, you're Charms Professor to over a hundred and twenty students. Your NEWT level classes have one of the highest application percentage rates across all Four Houses. The only two higher are Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration, but this is by percentage of students, not number of students attending. As a First Year, we currently have a foot and a half essay due on Thursday about the Levitation charm. I have no idea the length of essays assigned to the other years." Harry said.

"We have a ten foot essay due on the Fidelius Charm." One of the Seventh year Claws supplied.

Harry made a point to pause and point to that Ravenclaw as though to say 'Thank you' "And you have to read each and every one of these essays of your many students and grade them. This all isn't including anything regarding watching over Detentions, doing personal research, and then patrolling the castle at night. The point of all of this is that your time is a valuable commodity, just like it is with many of the Professors. By coming and making an appointment, I have a much higher chance of you not having to deal with anything else at the time that may be far more important than my needing your assistance with some independent research."

Harry then promptly went back to his seat to sit down. A Seventh Year leaned over a bit. "How did you know all that stuff about Professor Flitwick?" she asked.

Harry took a moment to load his plate and pour himself some orange juice before shrugging. "I do not know everything, I don't know what he gets, doesn't get, or how he spends his time." He said honestly. "But I have done my research on each and every one of the Professors."

Up at the Staff Table, Sprout leaned over to her colleague who was looking like a mix between modest embarrassment and pride. "Is all of that true Fillius?"

"I wouldn't know the exact statistics." Flitwick said. "And yes, I do indeed get fan mail, sponsor invites, Apprenticeship requests but in no great amount. I set aside four hours of every week to deal with all three of them. At most, it takes me two hours to go through them all and respond."

Sprout nodded, sitting straight once more. She had a high opinion of her colleague already, but the dedication and hard work to all of his duties was inspiring really. Especially since she was Head of the House of the Hardworking.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry paced like a caged animal in front of Flitwick's office. He could already feel the Diadem affecting him, even with Dust cawing slightly to him, keeping him grounded. Right now, it was just giving dark murmurs. But he knew eventually, with prolonged exposure, those murmurs would turned to sweet, seductive honeyed whispers in his ear.

Flitwick came up and opened the door. "Come on in Harry; tell me what you need me for." He said as he made his way towards the desk and sat down. He could see Harry was agitated by something. It made him a little nervous.

Harry stepped into the office and closed it and locked it. "Any additional privacy spells would be appreciated." Harry said and plopped his bag on the desk, staying standing and pacing.

Flitwick's wand came out and wards began to be erected. The spells caressed Harry's senses and he couldn't help but smile a bit at those, easing the feeling of anxiety. Harry sat down slowly and drew from his bag the silk bag containing the diadem.

Harry looked to his Head of House. "Professor, I need a promise that what you're about to see and hear, you will go about it logically."

Flitwick nodded. "I promise Harry."

Harry nodded. He didn't need a wizard's oath. Harry slowly withdrew the gleaming diadem and set it on the desk between them. At no point did he use his bare hands, instead using his wand. "I need to know what this is." He said.

"That's Rowena Ravenclaw's lost Diadem!" Flitwick said standing. "Where on earth did you find it?" He began to reach for it.

"Don't touch it!" Harry barked loudly and saw Flitwick jump in surprise. "I know what it was. I need to know what it is _now_, what it has become. It has a foul, loathsome aura to it. What has once been pure has been utterly and truly tainted beyond measure. To touch it, or put it on, you risk death or possession and in this case I'm not sure which is worse. I found this in this very school."

Flitwick took greater care, seeing the seriousness Harry was displaying. He began to wave his wand over it intricately. "I would say the latter based upon the very strong compulsion charms on it. I am uncertain why you are unaffected by them, but I feel them and I thank you for snapping me out of it. It's subtle, but strong. What do you know already Harry?"

"Dust says I'm not strong enough to destroy it." The crow cawed in response. "And I know of a few very creative, very powerful methods to destroy things permanently." The Harvester being one such object that would do the job, especially when Harry was more magically powerful. "It is Death Magic in its absolutely foulest form and I would say at least one cold blooded murder went into the making of the object. I don't know any more than that. Oh, and I need it identified because there is one of the exact same magical signature within Gringotts."

Flitwick's eyes shot up and he stared at Harry at that last sentence. "The Goblins are keeping one of these things?" His readings were showing some of the foulest things imaginable coming from it. The pure darkness it radiated would consume even the most innocent.

"Not intentionally, I don't think." Harry said. "But I plan to bring it up with my Account Manager once I have more information regarding it."

"Get behind me Harry." Flitwick said, standing up. He charmed a piece of chalk to begin drawing runes at his feet after Harry got behind him. The runes glowed before a powerful barrier, a mix between Goblin and Wizard magic, formed. Flitwick then pointed his wand at the Diadem. The tip of his wand glowed with the strength of the charm he prepared.

Harry didn't hear the incantation. Not over the massive sound the wand gave out as the spell forcefully displaced the air around it. He imagined briefly that it might sound like an Artillery shell being fired. The barrier had spread over the walls, but the desks, and the floor under it, had been completely obliterated in a one foot radius. Harry could see to the ground floor from where he stood behind Flitwick.

However, by the door was glittering silver. The diadem remained intact, despite the force and power behind Flitwick's spell. Flitwick's eyes settled on it. "Grab that Harry. We have to head to Gringotts immediately." Flitwick then flicked his wand out, shooting his Patronus out.

Harry moved over and got it back into the silk bag. "What is it Professor?" Harry asked as Flitwick threw some Floo powder into the grate.

Flitwick's face was a grim mask. "A Horcrux." He said.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry walked briskly behind Flitwick towards Gringotts. He was curious to know what a Horcrux was, but he also acknowledged that now wasn't the time. They apparently needed to get to Gringotts immediately.

The fact Flitwick had sent a Patronus to Dumbledore saying an emergency had popped up and for the Headmaster to cover his class spoke of the urgency of the matter.

They paused at the front of Gringotts and Flitwick turned to look at Harry. "We will take it to your Account Manager Harry." Flitwick said. "From there, it will likely be passed up along the line. I may not be with you at all times."

Harry nodded. "I understand Professor." He said before he headed in.

He went to the nearest available teller with Flitwick in tow. "I wish to speak with the Potter Family Account Manager at his earliest convenience." Harry said before moving to sit down.

Both Professor and student sat agitated. Harry because he was feeling two of the foul objects. They were disgusting to even be anywhere near.

"Mr. Potter, if you and your guest will come with me." Harry was never happier to hear Rotgut's voice. He quickly followed one of his Account Managers to his office.

Harry stayed standing, putting the silk bag holding the Horcrux on the chair while Flitwick sat down.

"Well met Charms Master Gringott." Rotgut said to Flitwick. "But I am uncertain as to why you're accompanying Mr. Potter."

"Gringott?" Harry asked, suddenly interested in his Charms Professor.

"It is my Goblin Clan Harry." Flitwick supplied. "I am here with Mr. Potter because he has brought a matter to me that concerns Gringotts Bank." He said.

"Then why not take it before Director Gringott?" Rotgut asked, slightly confused by the turn of the events.

Harry was getting more and more agitated with feeling the two objects. It was like they responded to each other's presence. "Can someone explain to me what exactly a Horcrux is?" Harry barked, unable to contain it any more.

Rotgut's spine straightened like Harry had just called his mother a sow. "Where did you hear that term Mr. Potter?" Rotgut asked his voice on a razor sharp edge towards genuine anger.

"I told him." Flitwick said. "We have one in our possession, and Harry claims there is another one here in this bank. I couldn't go to Director Gringott because if I said it was bank business, I would need an appointment, if I claimed Clan Business, the Elders would have to be present as well."

Rotgut used his hand, a wave of it, to summon the bag on his desk. He took a pair of cast iron tongs and pulled the Diadem from the sack. He waved his hand over it and suddenly spat a foul sounding swear in Goblin Tongue. He sent for more Goblins.

Rotgut's gaze then turned sharp on Harry. "Are you absolutely certain there is another Horcrux here in the bank?" he asked firmly.

"Positive." Harry said. "I felt it that first day I was here."

Rotgut swore again and waited for the Goblin team to arrive. He barked out his instructions and passed the Diadem off. They would see it purged if possible, destroyed if necessary. Rotgut then stood up. "Come with me." He said and began to briskly walk off.

Harry and Flitwick followed hot on his heels. Harry was still feeling agitated. "What is a Horcrux?" he asked in a tight tone. "I feel both of them, and it's genuinely bothering me. I had that diadem since last night and I barely got a wink of sleep."

"A Horcrux Mr. Potter," Rotgut began. "Is a foul piece of magic. It is created by a cold blooded murder of an innocent in which a person rips a piece of their soul off and puts it into a container. Some think creating a Horcrux shatters the soul, like a pane of glass. Instead, it's more like ripping off a piece of meat from a leg of chicken or lamb. There is no hope for the soul to be fixed once it's gone. Pieces will fray as the Soul is pressed. With one, you could, in theory, live forever. Your soul is anchored to an object on the physical plane after all."

"Whoever made them must be desperate if I'm feeling another besides the Diadem of the exact same magical signature." Harry said.

"They are an abomination." Rotgut spat.

The Goblin Account Manager led Harry and Flitwick towards a set of large, obsidian doors. Harry could see the carving of the twin dragons, the symbol of Gringotts Bank. These doors were opened to reveal an opulent office. Inside was a Goblin in a fine suit, a much finer suit than many of the account managers, Rotgut and Ironskull included.

"What is it Account Manager Rotgut?" The Goblin asked as he sat at a desk, stamping and signing various papers as he read them over. "I am a busy Goblin and have no time for any incessant interruptions without an appointment."

Harry was surprised he could understand the Goblin and turned to his Charms Professor for an explanation. He would expect the Goblins to speak the Goblin Tongue to one another when not expecting human company.

"Translation Runes Harry, not everyone coming to speak with the Director speaks the Goblin Tongue and the Director refuses to speak in anything but with clients. When you passed through the doors, the enchantment fell upon you. Greetings Director Gringott, it is always welcome to see Family once more." Flitwick said, first to Harry, then to the Director who was now looking up.

He saw Harry and sneered a bit. Then turned his direction to Flitwick. "Greetings Charm Master. You are not appointed to see me."

"There is a Horcrux in the bank. Mr. Potter here can sense it." Rotgut said, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

This caused Director Gringott to sit up straight, all paperwork suddenly no longer important. "Are you absolutely certain?" he asked, his beady yellow eyes boring right into Harry. "If this is some stupid human prank, it is ill conceived and I will see you beheaded for it."

Harry drew his knife and cut his palm so that blood showed and splattered on the floor while he stared into the eyes of the Goblin. "I swear on my blood that I am not lying when I saw I felt a Horcrux my first day here in Gringotts. It is in one of the lower vaults, guarded by a dragon. I told a Goblin that I could sense the foul Death Magic, but as I could not say for certain what it had been at the time, I was told that Gringotts could do nothing at the time." Harry said and put his bloodied knife away.

He'd clean it later.

His mention of a dragon though had set the Director swearing, as well as Rotgut and Flitwick surprisingly. And Harry could hear every ounce of foul Goblin language that only had him raising his brow and wondering if those things were at all possible.

He didn't believe boils grew on those.

"What is the problem?" Harry asked, trying to understand.

The Director recovered first, having a clear enough head to handle most of the problems that would come his way. He didn't have the most prestigious position in Gringotts without being able to sort himself out faster than the rest. "Mr. Potter, before I go into the problems and the options, I want to personally thank you for bringing the matter of a Horcrux in the bank to our attention. As such, I am increasing the interest rate on all vaults connected to you, whether you stand to inherit them or you are in control of them, by rate of three percent. As you have some concept of how much wealth you stand to inherit, you will understand why this is quite a bump. This is what _I_ can do to buy your silence at the moment.

"The problem is that dragons are only in some of the oldest vaults here at Gringotts. They are notoriously difficult to train and cost much manpower and man hours to get them responsive to their roles as guardians without simply putting them into the vault with the Gold. The fact this is an old vault means it is literally out of my hands. I cannot, nor any employee of Gringotts, enter the Vault in question under the treaties that restrict my race.

"However," Gringott was extremely serious at this point. "I would be forced to follow my King's orders and laws if he were to tell me to open the vault. At that point, I would not be breaking any treaty. We are still a Sovereign nation unto ourselves.

"Mr. Potter, you will have to take you case before Ragnarokk, High King of the Goblin Nation." Gringott said. He then stood up, no doubt planning to lead him there himself. "Manager Rotgut, entertain Charm Master Gringott until my return."

Harry heard gasps from both Flitwick and Rotgut. A glance also saw them looking with astonishment, fear, uncertainty. It was clear that he was missing some important piece of information.

"Harry,' Flitwick turned to his student. "I am not allowed to come with you on this. The last human to have ever seen the High King of the Goblin Nations was over a thousand years ago I am certain I do not need to tell you this, but you are representing every Wizard that deals business with Goblins, not just with Gringotts. You will be speaking with the most revered Goblin of our nation. There will be no less than two dozen honor guards in the throne with him at all times."

Harry nodded and rose to his feet. He did not ask why Flitwick would not be accompanying them. He simply accepted it. He followed Director Gringott out of the office and down into the depths of the many caverns underneath the bank.

"There will be a Speaker for the High King Mr. Potter." Gringott said, speaking English instead of Harry's brain changing the words due to an enchantment. "I do not foresee why the High King would refuse to allow you entry into the vault in question, not for such a foul abomination. But, he will demand to know how you know it is in the vault, something I'm curious about myself."

Harry nodded simply. He would explain it when asked about it, not when someone makes a simple statement like the Director.

In all honesty, Harry was getting slight anxiety attacks. The walls pressed in around him, closer and closer. His palms were wet with moisture and his collar felt stifling. Still, he walked with his head high and his back straight. He could show no weakness, not in Gringotts, or the presence of the Director.

He noticed Goblins around him turning to watch him stare. He also saw a female Goblin for the first time before she went back to work with the rest of the males who were no longer interested. It seemed there was at least gender equality among the Goblins.

They came to a set of wide doors, made out of many precious ores brilliantly crafted together. It also had many precious gem stones. The craftsmanship on the door showed the genuine artistic capabilities of the Goblins. But it was the motif of a Goblin slaying a Dragon that the door showed that held Harry's attention.

If the High King of the Goblin Nation slew a dragon, he would be quite the formidable foe. A foe Harry had no intention of fighting if he could help it.

Harry knew he just knew he'd end up insulting someone of the Goblin Nation that day. If it wasn't because a human had visited the High King, then it would be because of what would happen next. Harry could already see the event playing out in his mind. His gut tightened a bit. He wished he brought the Harvester with him.

Dust cawed lightly on his shoulder and he patted his familiar on his head. "This might be it." He whispered to Dust softly.

The doors were opened to lead into a breathtakingly opulent room. Literally rivers of silver flowed through the two sides of the room. A lava flow spilled behind the High King's obsidian throne. The entire room was one massive mural, with the walls and ceilings having depictions literally carved from the wall in a mix of sculptures and paintings.

The honor guards stood at attention in uniformed black armor. They didn't so much as even look in Harry's direction as he passed. The shields all bore the symbol of a dragon, making Harry wonder if it perhaps was the symbol of the High King's clan. Harry found himself distinctly needing lessons in Goblin culture. Though, it didn't take an expert to note the silver crafted bearded axes that each and every one of those two dozen Goblins held would cut through his flesh at the order of their High King.

A Goblin stood beside the throne, red beady eyes staring hatefully at Harry. He could only hope the High King understood English. If they had to communicate between one another through this Goblin, Harry was likely dead. But if he was going to die because of a miscommunication, he was going to be seriously pissed off.

It was the Goblin sitting on the throne though that got Harry's attention. Broad and massive for a Goblin, High King Ragnarokk looked every bit the warrior he was. A bearded axe made of silver sat resting at his side, but Harry could also see the hilt of a sword at the Goblin's waist as well. There was no crown to this Goblin, having no need for such decorations. Instead, he wore a highly polished silver helmet.

"Bow." Gringott said out of the corner of his mouth as he took a bow.

It was the moment of truth. Harry clasped his hands behind his back and put his feet together. He noticed eyes narrow on him and Gringott whisper something, but for the time being he ignored it. He stared right at Ragnarokk.

Ragnarokk spoke in the harsh tongue that was the Goblin's native language. "You stand in the presence of the High King human." The Translator spoke. "You should be bowing."

"No." Harry said. At this one word, he could have heard a pin drop. The slow gurgle of molten rock and silver flowing in the room was heard, but Harry stood firm.

Ragnarokk spoke once more, sitting up a little straighter in his throne. "The High King could have your vaults depleted, your body drawn and quartered, given to a dragon for a chew toy, he could even have you shoveling Dragon droppings for the rest of your life. Do you still refuse to bow?"

Harry squared his shoulders and held his head higher. "I will not bow." He said.

Ragnarokk spoke some more. "Wars have started for lesser insults Human."

"I will still not bow." Harry said. His stomach sank a bit, thinking of his fellow students, forced to fight in a war that he caused. He was stubborn, he knew. But this was not something he would yield on.

The Translator looked hopeful, expecting an order for human blood to be spilled. When Ragnarokk spoke, he clearly had Harry's sentence on the tip of his tongue. When the word's registered, shock appeared on his face and he turned to stare at the High King. "The High King wants to know why." The translator said after a moment of being held under the glare of the High King.

Harry didn't look hopeful, though he could feel it swelling in his chest. He viciously squashed the feeling though. He needed to focus now. "I am the Pale Rider." Harry said. 'I am the Avatar of Death, waiting for the Seven Seals to break and unleash the Apocalypse." Harry stood just a little bit straighter as he stared into the eyes of the High King.

"Death Bows to no one. Goblin, Wizard, Muggle, or otherwise, Death does not yield. Death does not submit. Death does not wait." Harry said. This was a non-negotiable point. Even if it got him killed there that day, he would go down holding true to his convictions. "This is no disrespect to you Ragnarokk, High King of the Goblin Nation. No disrespect to your title, your race, your deeds, or your combat prowess. But Death does not Bow."

He had expected an order for his head to come off. He expected the last Potter in existence to get killed without mercy. He would even have accepted it. He did, arguably, just insult a King in his domain.

What he did not expect, was for Ragnarokk to bust out laughing, causing even his Honor guards to jump and turn to look at him. Ragnarokk spoke, but this time it was in English. "And will you, Pale One, be the one to kill me in the end?" Ragnarokk wore a twisted smirk.

"No." Harry said bluntly. "I will be there in the end, by your side as a brother and friend. I will be the one you speak your last words to as I shepherd you into the next world where you will be judged for your actions in this one."

Ragnarokk burst out laughing again. "You have stones of purest diamond Pale One. Why have you been brought before me?"

"There is a Horcrux inside of Gringotts, in one of the older vaults that are apparently protected by treaties. However, as High King of the Goblin Nation." Harry said and saw a general swing of Ragnarokk's mood go from humorous, to downright furious.

"There is a foul abomination like that in Goblin Property?" he snarled. "Lead me there."

Harry nodded. "I wish to witness its purge or destruction. I brought another before Gringotts in the hope that it would be destroyed."

Ragnarokk rose from his throne and began to make his way to Harry and Gringott. "Know this, Pale One, if you are lying, I shall take your head from your shoulders and use it to for sport."

Harry turned and began to walk away. The entire contingent of Honor Guards stepped around them, though Harry knew he was leading. The mine cart even expanded onto more of a moving platform to accommodate fifteen Goblins and Harry.

Harry led the way into the tunnels when he felt the dragon again. Only this time, there was a rattling from the Goblins, rattling and clanking and the dragon began to move away.

Harry stepped out at the word of the High King, looking upon the vault. He could feel the foulness of the Horcrux inside. The High King barked at Gringott and the Director moved forward. With a wave of his hand, the vault door began to open.

"The enchantments have been taken off Mr. Potter." Gringott said.

Harry stepped into the vault, ignoring all the gold and following his senses. Dust cawed slightly as he kept walking, so he reached up and petted the crow. 'It's okay." He told Dust.

Harry yanked his knife out of the sheath and moved up a pile of gold slowly. He hooked the knife around the handle of the Cup and found himself quite angry. He was no fool, able to recognize the markings of Helga Hufflepuff on the cup.

Carefully, so that the cup did not touch his skin, Harry made his way back down to the Director and the High King, holding the cup out balanced on his knife.

Gringott set to work, checking that it was indeed a Horcrux before spitting out a foul curse, confirming that it indeed was one.

Ragnarokk looked to the cup, then to Harry. "You will be rewarded for this Pale One. The contents of every Lestrange Vault shall be placed within the Potter Vaults." Ragnarokk said. 'And I will grant one boon if it is within my power to do so."

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, wanting to groan about the added monies that he was going to have to get catalogued and started moving once more. But he then looked over to Ragnarokk. "Can I get an I.O.U. on that? At the moment, I'm not even sure what to ask for."

Ragnarokk inclined his head before he turned on his heel and began to lead his contingent of Honor guards away.

Harry was taken by Gringott to watch the purging or destruction of both Horcruxes.

It had been a busy day.

-_Scene Break-_

Unbeknownst to those in Gringotts, faraway in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at the precise moment of the destruction of both Horcruxes, a man wearing a turban dropped dead, his Master forcefully ejecting from his body from the agony of having the soul even more damaged.

Chapter End

A/N: Been a busy past few days doing some moving and cleaning. But I probably won't be posting for about a week. I'm going to be working on Borderlands 2 again.

Bye

Hunter Berserker Wolf


	12. Book 1: Chapter 12

_Last Time: Harry has taken the Diadem to Flitwick, who attempted to destroy it. After a monumental failure, Flitwick ascertained that it was a Horcrux and took Harry to Gringotts. Once there, Harry was first taken before Director Gringott and then to High King Ragnarokk to plead his case regarding the Horcrux within Gringotts. It was revealed to be the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff. Both were purged, with Harry gaining the Lestrange Vaults as reward. Quirinus Quirrel passed, the possession of Voldemort ending violently._

Book One: Death

Chapter 12

The second the Floo spat both Harry and Flitwick out back at Hogwarts, Harry knew something was wrong. There was a lingering feel and a slight hum along his senses. Death had occurred inside of Hogwarts once more. And the human death had charged the Hogwarts wards much more than what the Troll Death had done.

He also noticed that the hole that Flitwick had blasted into the floor had been repaired.

"Let's head on down to dinner Harry. I had not expected to be gone that long." Flitwick said before he began to make his way out of his office.

Harry followed the short Charms Master. "Professor, do you feel that?" he asked. The hum of the powerful wards had to be singing to Flitwick, and yet he was acting like there was nothing going on.

"Harry, if I know Albus, then he will announce what happened at dinner. It would give him plenty of time to spin the story properly to not cause panic, and undoubtedly get the Aurors involved. Even Albus doesn't play around with the loss of a human life." Flitwick said as he made his way down the stairs.

Harry nodded and he glanced to the box he carried with him. Depending on Dumbledore's announcement, Harry would have to put off his own announcement until the morning when it would be a better time.

Harry entered the Great Hall and took his seat, noticing that many people were whispering to one another and hardly paying attention to the late arrival of Professor Flitwick and himself. Harry quickly found his usual seat and began to get some of the food to eat.

He glanced to a Prefect and leaned over slightly. "What's the whispering about?" Harry asked in a low tone. Hogwarts just loved to gossip and the rumor mill was legendary.

"They're saying Professor Quirrel died." The Prefect said in a low voice. "And Professor Dumbledore is confirming it with the Aurors on what happened. Apparently a sixth year went to ask Quirrel a question and found him. She hasn't been seen since, so I think she might have been taken for questioning."

Harry nodded slowly and went back to his food. He was thoughtful as he thought about the development of Quirrel dying. It was such an interesting thing to have happened, especially after the destruction of two Horcruxes. It was suspicious even.

"Aren't you upset about it?" One of the other Prefects asked.

Harry paused for a moment before shaking his head. "Not in the slightest." He said honestly. "Death is a natural progression. It's not something to be feared, nor is it something to be sought. Death comes for all of us eventually. Be it twenty seconds from now, or two hundred years from now, we will all eventually breathe our last. I will make the most of my life. I won't celebrate Quirrel's death, but I won't act like it's the end of the world." It may have been a harsh thing to say, but Harry was suspicious of the death. It was hard to keep that suspicion out of his thoughts.

Harry ignored his fellow Ravenclaws. Unfortunately, being the Avatar of Death would make him take a much more logical approach towards the subject and idea of the death of the Professor. He had heard many students say that he was a good Professor, if he could just spit out what he was trying to say.

Harry wasn't entirely sure himself.

He glanced along the staff table, pausing at the sight of the newest Professor, a man that was infinitely better than his predecessor. Professor Alexander Kross was the new History of Magic Professor. The first thing he had them all do was take a test on what they should have known so he could better teach everyone what they needed to know.

Interestingly enough, Professor Kross wasn't much older than the students were. Harry generally dismissed him when he glanced up at the staff table to be honest. Professor Kross wasn't focused on Goblin Rebellions or Giant Wars. Unfortunately for him, there just wasn't anything particularly memorable about him. He had also announced that he was only going to finish out the year with them.

It did lead the question to what Dumbledore was going to do about a replacement for Defense Against the Dark Arts for the rest of the year. They hadn't even made it to the Holidays yet and they needed a new one, which apparently was a new record according to the older students. None of the previous Professors had died thankfully.

Dumbledore came in through a side entrance and the murmurs going about the Great Hall all died down as he made his way towards a podium. The Headmaster seemed to be showing his years as he placed both hands on the sides of the podium, looking down to it.

"It is regrettably my duty to inform all of you of the passing of Professor Quirinus Quirrel. It would seem the dear Professor had been possessed by a malignant spirit. At this time, it is unknown whether it was a willing or unwilling possession. However, given the manner of his passing, it is believed that Professor Quirrel had been unwillingly possessed, and that he had thrown off the malignant spirit which took his life in the process." Dumbledore said, his face still showing his age in the matter. "We cannot determine if this possession has occurred recently and gotten through the many Wards of Hogwarts, or if Professor Quirrel brought the spirit in with him. Let us give a moment of silence for the deceased."

Harry's eyes narrowed a bit as Dumbledore spoke. He stayed quiet, but his green eyes shined a bit as the gears in his head turned. He calmed himself a bit as he remembered that he didn't have enough facts to make any conclusions, even though he had a few ideas of the truth of what happened.

The Spirit that had possessed Quirrel was no spirit, rather a fragment of a soul. The same soul had resided inside of two Horcruxes that had been purged earlier that day. Because the Soul Fragment that had possessed Quirrel was not anchored to the man in the way it would have been to a Horcrux, the Soul Fragment had felt the destruction of the other two Soul Fragments, causing it absolute agony and forcing it to eject violently from Quirrel.

Or at least, that was Harry's theory. So it meant there were more Horcruxes out there as well as the Soul Fragment that was on the loose. Dust let a small caw out, something that was heard throughout the Great Hall.

Harry gently shushed Dust. He knew what the crow was thinking as he stroked its beak. Harry would be there to destroy whoever it was that had created those foul pieces of magic. He would be brutal, he would be effective, and he would be absolute in his destruction of them and their creator.

He was the Pale Rider after all.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry found himself at the entrance to the Come and Go Room. He bit the tip of his tongue as he thought about the room. He could tell the room had wonderful potential to be more; the question was how did he tap into that potential.

Harry began to pace before the entrance. He kept his mind clear, so the door never showed up. Instead, he just watched it as he paced back and forth. Finally, he began to slow his steps and think, walking back and forth slowly once more.

On the third pass, the door appeared and Harry paused. He inhaled slowly before he opened it. His amazement began to show as he closed the door behind him. The room had tailored itself to what he needed.

It was Harry's opinion that the room had been crafted by a master of many arts. It was the only possible explanation to it. Conjuration, Illusion, Summoning, many forms of magic went into the creation of the room, and it showed in what shape the room took on this time.

It was a circular room, dominated by book shelves and a circular center table. Three quarters of the room went unfinished, barren and blank. The book shelves were empty of books, just waiting to be filled.

The last quarter of the room was done in bronze and blue, the color of Ravenclaw. However the banner behind the ivory throne, seemingly carved from bones, was the same symbol as what was on Harry's parachute, a crow atop a skull with its wings spread wide.

Harry's portion of the room was done in bones and skulls. A goblet sat upon his portion of the table, it was in the shape of a skull with a crown carved along the top. It looked like a skull that had been scalped, meaning it was designed to be drunk from. Harry lifted it up by the handle, done to look like a portion of the spinal column.

Harry looked at it with a bit of distaste. If it was an actual skull, carved into a goblet then there room was a bit more macabre than he had imagined. However, upon a bit of study he determined that it was wooden inlaid with bits of metal and not made from bone.

Still, Harry doubted he would be drinking from it any time soon.

Harry moved over to the bookshelves and began to go over the thick tomes slowly. A few he would have to find a translation spell for.

A soft rustle of paper brought his attention to the table behind him. He picked up the parchment that appeared on the table and found it to be a translation Spell. Harry decided to put it on the bookshelf and continue looking over the books.

He found books on Fire Magic, Ice Magic, Water Magic, Earth Magic, Gravity Magic, Charms, Transfiguration, Alchemy, Conjuration, Illusions, Potions, Hexes, Curses, Jinxes, and even Death Magic and Ritual magic.

It was a room that Harry could perform all of his studies within without a single soul being able to tell. He could learn elemental magic, ritual magic, and enchanting magic. It was frankly simply amazing how many things had been lost inside of this room over the years.

Best of all, Harry thought he recognized a few tomes of the Founders themselves.

He went to sit in the throne like chair and found the black cushion running along the seat and the back was actually quite comfortable. He could probably lose himself in studying for hours in that chair if he thought it would be necessary. The room opened up so many beautiful options for him that he couldn't wait until he had more time to properly begin to work on everything that it had to offer.

Harry's mind was once more brought to the blood red stone in his trunk. He glanced up to the room. "A book on magical stones?" he asked hopefully.

There was a thud on the table in front of him.

Harry glanced down to the thick tome and began to flip through it. The book was informative about magical stones. He glanced to the spine, wondering who it was authored by. Unfortunately the name didn't ring any bells so he kept working.

Thankfully, the author had gotten a picture of almost every single one of the stones, and the ones he didn't have a picture of, Harry had a description to work with. He managed to cut it down to one of two stones.

It was either a Djinn control stone or the Philosopher's Stone. If it was the Djinn Control Stone, he should have been approached by someone with the offer of granting wishes already. As good as that sounded, the price for the wishes would be his eternal soul and bringing Hell on Earth. While he could, technically, do that as the Pale Rider, Harry's own morals told him that it would be a bad idea.

So, since he hadn't been approached by a man offering to grant Harry's wishes that left him with the next most likely candidate, the Philosopher's Stone.

While the idea of alchemically being able to turn any metal into gold, permanent gold for that matter, appealed to him, he knew that having the stone was dangerous. It brought the question of what it was doing in a school full of children to his brain. Sure, there were impressive warding schemes set up around Hogwarts, especially since the Death Wards had received a powerful charge in the past few months.

He knew Dumbledore had done work with Nicolas Flamel in the past, so there was no doubt in Harry's mind on how Dumbledore had gotten the Stone. Perhaps the more pertinent question was instead why the stone wasn't with Flamel anymore. Did Dumbledore perhaps convince Flamel that the Stone would be safer with him? Was Flamel getting too old to be able to properly protect the stone?

The stone was worth entirely too much to simply destroy it, and that was not even taking into account the monetary value of it. Returning it to Flamel was a priority though. But how to keep it hidden until such a time presented itself? Ideally he wanted a place that no one would ever look, but he could retrieve once it was time to return it to Flamel.

Hearing Dust's caw of a suggestion had Harry's blood run cold, but the crow was indeed correct. That suggestion would work.

It was also a test from Dust and Harry was smart enough to know that.

-_Scene Break-_

One week, it had been one week since Quirrel's passing and Harry's subsequent time inside of the Come and Go Room. One week since he discovered that he held the Philosopher's Stone inside of his trunk and Dust's test.

Dust had eventually given Harry a choice that night. Take the test, and when Harry passed, Dust would assist in Harry's training even more, pushing him further and further. Or to not take the test and Harry would only get scraps of information as Harry figured them out for himself.

It had kept him awake, knowing the sheer agony of what Dust was telling him to do. In fact, it terrified him more than his claustrophobia. He didn't know how to do what Dust was asking of him by magical or mundane means. It meant Harry would have to desperately follow what the room would give him.

Harry peaked inside a classroom on the second floor. He had taken to walking around for a few hours each night to clear his head and think on what Dust was proposing.

Dust, when he had first gone to Harry, helped suppress Harry's emotions. There was a lot of anger, a lot of rage to him. Given how much they leaked through even suppressed told Harry just how much rage and anger he had. But by suppressing Harry's emotions, he didn't have them to get in the way of logical decisions. Eventually Dust would unleash his emotions when Harry had a better grasp on them, which would eventually include better Occlumency barriers.

For this task, Dust had unshackled his emotions so that he could feel the full range and depth of them. It added to the difficulty of the test that Dust had wanted him to perform, and it was causing Harry doubts. Logically, he already knew that it was the best decision, the best option.

Unfortunately, it would be performed without any form of help or supervision. It would be all Harry, which meant it was all him whether or not he failed. There was also no 'try' in this instance. It was do or do not just as there would be in any other situation.

Harry inhaled as he entered another classroom, pushing those thoughts from his mind as he came across a beautiful mirror inside the room. There were a few aged supplies under dust and cobwebs, placed in crates long forgotten. Harry opened one of those crates, wincing as he heard the creaking of the aged wood.

He pulled out a heavy book and blew on it slightly, pushing the dust off of it. It was a book on enchanting. All of the books were. Harry glanced to the mirror and looked to the top. _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _was inscribed upon the top. It took him a moment to read it. "I show not your face but your heart's desire?" he asked in a slight whisper.

Harry centered himself in front of the mirror and looked into it. He jumped slightly at what he saw. The book clattered to the floor.

The Four Riders were in the Mirror in full Rider Regalia and on top of their horses. But there was more to it than that. The three missing Riders had their faces hidden from view, obscuring them completely. A woman sat behind him atop Despair and another woman sat behind Famine atop of Disaster.

"Curious thing, is it not Mr. Potter?"

Harry spun around, his knife and wand coming out to bear down upon Dumbledore behind him who held both hands up to show he was without his wand. Harry felt incredibly stupid and put his wand and knife away.

Drawing weapons upon and unarmed old man? Shame on him.

"Any guess on what it shows?" Dumbledore asked, stepping forward with both hands at his side now. "A hint, Mr. Potter, it would show a man who has everything he could ever want absolutely nothing. It would be a regular mirror for him. But for you, who have never known family, it shows you that which you sorely desire."

"Do not presume to tell me what I see." Harry said looking into the blue eyes of the Headmaster, those blue eyes that had lost their sparkle. He was a bit snappish, but he wasn't sure if it was because of Dumbledore being there or because of his unshackled emotions.

"My sincerest apologies Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, sounding contrite. Though, if it was an act, Harry wasn't entirely certain on it. "May I ask what it is that you see then?"

"That's a personal question Headmaster. I believe we have already gone over that ground quite thoroughly." Harry said. "Unless you plan to share what it is that you see when looking into the mirror."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he placed a hand on the smooth surface of the mirror. His face held such longing. Dumbledore sighed softly. "I am old Mr. Potter, so very old. I have done so many things in this long life of mine that I don't even know where to begin to describe the wonders and amazement. But having done a great deal of many things, many of them good, I have also done some… horrible things." Dumbledore's eyes closed as he heaved a sigh.

"I see perhaps my greatest regret staring back at me from the mirror, Harry." Dumbledore turned to look at Harry his eyes open once more. "I see my sister Ariana and my brother Aberforth looking back at me. A family broken by the actions of others, and our parents' actions, whole once more. I see my family, broken by my own actions, whole once more. I see them forgiving me for being a young boy full of ambitions and foolish ideals.

"I fear with Ariana's death that is but a pipe dream however. At least until I go onto the next great adventure that is death. Aberforth is another story however, and while my brother is civil with me, I know better than to believe he has forgiven me. Something I am reminded of every day I look in the mirror." Dumbledore said, tapping his crooked nose with one long finger.

Harry looked to Dumbledore for a while before he glanced once more to the mirror. "I see myself, a wife, a brother, two sisters, and a sister-in-law. Not the children of James and Lily Potter, no, I see a family brought together by bonds far greater than blood. I cannot see their faces, so I do not know their identities."

"Then how do you know they are family?" Dumbledore queried.

Harry might have been willing to discuss what he saw in the mirror, but he was still unwilling to discuss what was expected of him later in life with Dumbledore. "I just do." He said simply. "Does this Mirror show the Future? Because I would not have expected a wife and a Sister-in-law to be included in the reflection if it does not."

Dumbledore stared to the mirror for a while. "I daresay that it is a distinct possibility that it does show the future in certain cases. But it will be something you have to work for to obtain."

Harry nodded slightly understanding what Dumbledore was saying. It meant he'd have to work to find a wife.

Dumbledore then turned to face Harry once more. "I will be moving this mirror. I beseech you to not go looking for it Mr. Potter. If you find it again, I have no doubt you will know what to do." Dumbledore said.

Harry shook his head slightly. "I never know if you're a great master manipulator, or an old man that tries to do the best he can, but fails ever so slightly and so you cling with your fingertips. Every time I think you're an old man, that I can trust you, you go and do or say something that feels like you're manipulating me, especially with having your fingers in every pie you can." Harry shook his head and turned walking out of the room.

Dumbledore sighed slightly as he heard Harry's words. They cut right to his old heart. He never meant to come across as a manipulative individual. He knew he had a silver tongue; it had gotten him in and out of a fair bit of trouble in his youth with Gellert.

He rose to political prominence using that silver tongue to try and have the betterment of everyone. Not just Wizards either. He admitted to having some prejudice against Muggles in his youth. After their assault on Ariana, he could never seem to like Muggles again. He had rather seen Wizards rise to triumph, even if it meant climbing over the broken bodies of Muggles everywhere. If it meant bygones were left to be bygones, then so be it also.

Then he remembered being in Berlin. He and other wizards were going to put an end to Gellert's reign of terror. An explosion toppled the roof over their head, and Dumbledore was the only survivor of the group of six. Debris had pinned his legs down in a bad way, crushed his hand also so he could not retrieve his wand.

He had expected to die there.

But out of nowhere, a group of Muggle Soldiers, fighting the Nazi Regime had come and freed him from the debris. Dumbledore had been carried on the shoulders of a young man, barely older than the graduating class of Hogwarts at the time. He had been carried back behind the Allied lines to a medical tent.

Oddly enough, the scar he got from the incident was a perfect map of the London Underground just above his knee.

But it had completely changed him. Here was the good, the very best that the Muggles had to offer. It had been like a slap in the face to his jadedness. So for the past fifty years, he had been dedicated to promoting equality between all races: Goblins, Centaurs, Wizards, House Elves, and even Muggles. It was a hard and bitter battle that he fought politically against some of the most stubborn minds.

He had hoped, originally, that young Tom Riddle would become a sort of heir to his work because it was not work that he would see blossom into the beautiful thing that he was certain it could become. To see Tom fall so far off to the side had been like a dagger laying open an old wound to his heart where Gellert had lain.

He turned to look at the Mirror of Erised. He remembered the crafting of it. A young Seer he had taken Enchantment Classes with. In fact, the Mirror had been a collaboration between the two of them shortly after Ariana's death. It had earned both of them mastery in Enchanting.

Sadly, the class had long since fallen out of curriculum at Hogwarts. Enchanting was hard, expensive work. In order to properly appreciate it, students had to have more money than they knew what to do with, or an appreciation for taking things slow and fully studying things in such great depth that they would be lucky to make their deadline.

It, like many courses, had been drummed out of Hogwarts. Once, the castle had been THE Center of Magical Learning. Each and every classroom, filled to the brim, Hogwarts had been splendid once. Unfortunately, it had fallen slowly as magical blood began to wane and thin due to inbreeding amongst the purebloods.

Even those with many children, like Arthur and Molly Weasley, had weaker magical children. Dumbledore himself had been extraordinary in his power, yes, but there had been stronger than him back when he walked the hallowed halls wearing red and gold. But magical power had begun to dwindle down.

He stared at the bright blue eyes of Ariana within the Mirror. It was the only way he could remember the way life sparkled in those eyes. It was either that or the portrait that hung in his office that Ariana traveled to and from.

He had been tempted to tell Harry that what he saw was himself holding a pair of wooly socks. But he had a feeling that such a thing would have been taken as a lie instead of the half-truth that it was. And while he could tell Harry hadn't been entirely true with him on what Harry had seen in the Mirror, he wasn't going to risk the possible relationship between him and the young Potter Heir over something like that.

In fact, the wooly socks he saw himself holding were a pair that the Ariana in the Mirror had knit. How he longed for such a simple thing as wooly socks knit by his sister. He sighed softly and drew his wand, charming the tiles that sat underneath the Mirror to rise and follow him.

He began to walk the mirror towards his office, thinking over the events of the pass few days. Tom's presence in the castle had been an absolute surprise and shock to him. Finding out that he had possessed Quirinus had been just a shock.

It made him wonder if things would have been different had he taken Tom's application to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor all those years ago. Would Tom have given up the quest to be Voldemort if he had been in a position of teaching inside Hogwarts? Would Tom have found love of his own?

These sorts of questions plagued Dumbledore's mind and were forced to the surface with the recent actions. He had been absolutely stunned at how well Quirinus had been teaching Defense. Despite the stuttering and the smell of Garlic in the classroom, Quirinus had been one of the better teachers at Defense.

Then again, he had been possessed by Tom. Tom, for all his faults, had delved deep into the Dark Arts and learned all he could about them to keep himself protected so another wouldn't use them against him. And so he began to pass that knowledge down towards his students.

Perhaps Dumbledore had been a bit hasty in declining Tom's application to be the Defense Professor.

But the truth was that Dumbledore had been afraid. He had been afraid that if Tom had been a Professor, eventually he would have become Headmaster. And as Headmaster, he would have been a very influential figure to the students.

Muggleborn wouldn't even be allowed inside of the school which would have broken the charter of the school. Hogwarts would have then gone into lockdown on itself until the situation was rectified and not even the Headmaster would have been able to gain access.

The Founders had sworn that Hogwarts would be a school of Equal opportunity, regardless of bloodline and nobility. Unfortunately, those traits had begun to dim in recent years.

Then there was Harry, those thoughts also plagued and ate at Dumbledore. The boy was voracious in his pursuit of knowledge. Poppy had come to him several times, praising the boy's abilities at potion making. She would assign him a potion to research for their coming class, and by their next class he was ready to brew it. In all honesty, Horace was jealous that Poppy got to keep Harry.

Dumbledore couldn't really force Harry to attend Horace's class either. Not until the next year, but Dumbledore wasn't even sure if he wanted to do something like that. It would undoubtedly alienate Harry even further from him.

Fillius and Minerva were no less generous with their praise. The same could almost be said for Pomona. Harry was good at the theoretically, but the fact of the matter was he had no practical talent for Herbology, so he often paired with someone that did in fact have the practical talent.

But Dumbledore remembered a young Tom Riddle being the same way. Voracious in his pursuit of knowledge and not vigilant enough. It ended with a young and brilliant mind being swayed to the Dark Arts. If Harry begun to gather followers, then Dumbledore wasn't entirely certain how he would survive the heart attack. The parallels between him and Tom were astounding if Dumbledore was honest.

Then there was also Harry's crow, Dust. Dumbledore was surprised that Harry had a familiar, but a crow was generally associated with Death. It worried Dumbledore slightly. Especially with his owl having the name of Ashes.

Perhaps he was over thinking things, but he couldn't help it. He remembered James and Lily, both bright people and very happy, always laughing and smiling. In comparison, Harry was rather serious and even a touch withdrawn. The only time Dumbledore had seen him smiling had been when he had gotten out of the Black Lake after having jumped off of Hogwarts.

Aberforth had said he owed a drink to Harry for making Dumbledore worry so much. His brother was always looking for ways to get under his skin.

Dumbledore took the secret passage way to the end of where the Stone was being kept. His Professors were masters in their field, yet he knew if someone was determined enough to get through, then they would. Unfortunately, Dumbledore couldn't go back and change the charms, enchantments, and various other spells the Professors had put on the various rooms without threatening to destabilize the entire thing.

He was debating getting the Professors back down there to better shore the defenses on the Stone.

Dumbledore entered the Stone's chamber and felt his blood freeze. He moved over to the pedestal as quickly as he could, his heart pounding in his chest.

The Philosopher's Stone was missing.

-End Chapter-

A/N: A little later than I had intended, but I hope it's still well received. I'm aiming for at least a 100k words to this story so I have another eight or so chapters to go, so we're slowly winding up.

Next chapter we have what Dust has planned for the Harry and the Stone.

Also, as an author, this story is a pain in the ass. I get ideas for the later books when I'm still working on this freaking story.


	13. Book 1: Chapter 13

_Last Time: Hogwarts has been informed of the passing of Quirrel. Harry returned to the Come and Go Room and was capable of making it into a study room for him and the other Riders when he finds them where their experiments can be hidden. He finds he has the Philosopher's Stone in his possession once inside the room. He roams the halls at night and finds himself before a mirror that shows him an image of the future, and what his heart desperately wants. A brief conversation with Dumbledore occurs and Dumbledore moves the mirror, only to find where he intended to move it was missing the Philosopher's Stone._

Book One: Death

Chapter 13

Hindsight… It was a cruel thing to consider. When Dumbledore had first placed the Philosopher's Stone in the Third Floor corridor, he had planned to put several tracking and alarm wards around it so that he would be notified immediately of someone removing it. Unfortunately, he had gotten an important letter from the International Confederation of Wizards that had drawn his attention away from Hogwarts around the same time, so he had put off putting Wards up on the Stone.

It made Dumbledore wonder if there was indeed any truth to the words of those questioning whether he was stretched too thin or not.

He had brought the Stone to the castle for safe keeping and studying. He had never intended for any but a select few to be in the know about the Stone. He had in fact had to work on Nicolas for the past thirty years to let him study the Stone for Alchemic purposes. The Alchemist was quite… concerned when it came to the Stone.

It left Dumbledore in quite the precarious situation. He would have to own up to his mistake and contact Nicolas immediately. If Dumbledore knew his mentor like he thought he did, Nicolas would explode at the mention of the Stone being missing.

As he sat at his desk, mulling over its losses and how best he could reclaim the Stone, he knew that there would be no flowery writing that would save him from Nicolas' anger. Undoubtedly the acclaimed Alchemist would come to Scotland to handle the issue himself.

He tied the letter to Fawkes' talon. "Take it to Nicolas." He told the phoenix and watched it begin to wing off before it flashed away in fire.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair a bit, stroking his beard as he thought about what to do next. Nicolas would be incensed at the loss of the Stone, so Dumbledore would have to come up with a method of finding it.

Using the House Elves to check the students' trunks was out of the question. That was, purely, an invasion of privacy that he would not put the students through. Using the Sorting Hat was also out, if the student did take it then the Hat would be forced to keep quiet about it as that was an invasion of their privacy.

Legilimency was also right out. That was a bomb waiting to go off with the Board of Governors.

Bringing the Aurors in to investigate the matter would certainly be possible, except he would have to explain why he had a dangerous Cerberus in the school, as well as a Mountain Troll. Guarding the Stone would only carry so far as an excuse.

Perhaps just asking the students when Nicolas came by. Surely they would understand the right of ownership that Nicolas could claim.

Dumbledore removed his half-moon speckled glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. How could something like this have happened? Perhaps Aberforth had the right idea in being a simple bartender. Then he just had to worry about getting the drinks right.

But Dumbledore would never settle for that. His calling was doing the work that he was currently doing already. This was going to be another one of those moments he would regret for the rest of his life undoubtedly. He had failed in this one endeavor, and angered a friend. He had failed that friend when he gave promise after promise that he would be able to keep the Stone safe.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry had skipped breakfast. The images of the other Riders from the night before in that Mirror made him think and finally decide to go through with what Dust had offered as a possibility for the Stone. But first, he wanted to stop by that classroom once more.

While the Mirror was indeed missing, he wasn't after a second glimpse. He had a glimpse of his deepest desire, the future that he was working towards. He didn't need that reaffirmed. Instead, he picked up the Enchanting book from the night before and tucked it into his bag.

He inhaled deeply as he made his way up towards Come and Go Room. This was terrifying to him. Dust was with him, but quite silent on the matter. So Harry had no one to talk to about what he was about to do. He reached into his back and slid his fingers around the smooth surfaces of the Philosopher's Stone.

The chance to study it was something he would give a small fortune for. Unfortunately, he would be unable to do so. Studying it would risk it being exposed and until he could find a way to get it back to Nicolas Flamel, he wasn't going to risk it. It had to stay in the safest spot he could come up with.

He walked before the wall to the Come and Go room. He inhaled deeply and put his hand shakily on the door knob. He twisted slowly and stepped in. He closed the door and set about locking it from the inside, even going as far as putting a bar over the door so that no one could enter.

He turned to look at the operating table and swallowed slightly. It had everything he needed. His body felt heavy as he stepped towards it. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and Harry knew that he was terrified. He was absolutely terrified to the very depths of his body.

There was only one safe place as far as Harry was concerned, one place that he would know about at all times. A place that he could hide the Philosopher's Stone until he got it back to Nicolas Flamel.

It was inside of him.

He was not a Doctor who went through years of training to be able to cut people open. He was not a Medical Wizard who went through years of training to know the spells and potions to keep someone alive. He was not even Pestilence who would have a natural understanding of the human body and how it worked.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, stopping him from turning around and leaving the room. This was not the logic and intelligence of a Ravenclaw peeking through. But it was the Cunning of a Slytherin. It was the Bravery of a Gryffindor.

It was a stupid and yet brilliant idea that he could only attribute to Dust for coming up with. Most spells and wards wouldn't look any deeper than the surface of the skin. They just weren't designed to do otherwise. If a spell was designed to do otherwise, it could come up with a false reading on an artificial heart that a Muggle or Muggleborn might have.

Not very reliable as the Muggles came up with more and more interesting ways to keep someone alive.

Harry could not take this before a trained medical professional. That was inviting entirely too many problems. Medical Professionals tended to ask questions that Harry really couldn't answer. Any Medical Witch or Wizard would recognize him as Harry Potter, and mundane doctors would be curious as to why an eleven year old wanted a stone the size of a plum put inside of his body.

Harry set the Philosopher's Stone onto the table with the other supplies. The room supplied him with all of his needs in the form of a scalpel, four potions, a needle and thread to stitch himself up, some metal wire to secure the stone with, tweezers for pulling the wire with, cotton swabs with some rubbing alcohol, and a pair of tongs.

Harry shook a little bit as he read the directions, pages taken from books, of each of the potions that the Come and Go Room had supplied him with. Logically, he understood the test that Dust had given him. It was a test of his resolve. How far would he be willing to go to accomplish the task at hand? Could he steady his resolve?

Harry knew that if it was not for Dust muting his emotions, then he would have had more issues than he knew what to do with. He would have mentally broken down from his childhood a long time ago. Unfortunately, that same muting of the emotions caused Harry to be unable to properly let his past go. He could never quite forget the abuse he suffered mostly at the hands of a drunk Vernon.

Harry knew there were some suppressed memories that were just begging to come to the surface. It was just another thing that he would deal with once he could find the other Riders. If they couldn't help, then he could undoubtedly go to a mundane psychologist or something.

So many things to do, so little time unfortunately.

Harry removed his top, and after a thought also removed his pants. He folded them both and neatly put them away. Inhaling softly, he laid on the operating table and moved the tray of supplies to his lower abdomen and his upper thighs. He started with the potions.

The first potion would numb his senses. A dangerous thing given that was operating on himself, but he wasn't certain if he could cut himself open while feeling every drag of the scalpel. It would only last a total of thirty minutes, so he would have to work fast.

The second potion was for blood loss. It was to be taken before the procedure so that the body would know the proper amount of blood to produce. Taking it after the procedure could leave a person with not enough blood which could be just as dangerous as what Harry was about to attempt.

The third potion was a Calming Draught. While Harry couldn't feel a thing, it didn't mean his hands weren't shaking quite badly. He needed to have a steady hand for what he was about to attempt. Even the slightest mishap could see him dying in that room.

Harry got the alcohol and doused it on the cotton swab before starting to sterilize the area he was cutting. He was starting his cut down and slightly left of his left nipple. The mirror to the side let him see the length of area that he was going to cut open. It did nothing for his nerves, even if his hands were steady. He could feel the panic that wanted to creep in, but was kept back by the potions.

Harry quickly secured the stone in a relatively simple makeshift pouch of the metal wire. He didn't want to try and tie the knots while he was bleeding onto the table. When he was certain that he could do no more prep, he inhaled a little bit more and picked up the scalpel in his right hand.

There were so many ways for this to go wrong. The thought ran a chill down his spine and he gripped the scalpel a little tighter. For a brief moment, Harry thought about being a normal eleven year old, where he wasn't cutting into himself to hide a magical Stone.

Unfortunately, normal had waved goodbye to the Potter Heir a long time ago. He inhaled slightly and started the incision into his body. He didn't feel anything past the press of the blade. The surgical steel was sharp and parting his skin with hardly an effort. Blood began to spill down his side from the wound.

Harry was officially on the clock.

He felt a coolness wash over him, like he finally accepted what he was going to do. Even still, he wasn't going to rush this. He set the scalpel down and used the pair of tongs to gently lift the skin and take a look underneath and into his own body.

Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at too well. He knew his internal organs took up a vast majority of the space of his abdomen, but that wasn't the only thing showing. There were also layers of muscle and fat that he had sliced through. For a brief moment, a thought of cutting too deep ran through his mind, but it was entirely too late now.

Harry picked up the Philosopher's Stone and situated it inside of his body, just above his kidney. He had to use his hands to gently nudge his organs a bit to make enough room for the irregularly shaped Stone, but soon enough it was firmly inside of him, enveloped behind layers of organ tissue. He took the metal wire and led it up along his ribs.

Using the tweezers and the scalpel, he gently freed some of the meat from the ribs. Not a lot, just enough to use the tweezers to draw the wire up under the ribs. At the fifth set of ribs from the bottom, Harry quickly tied the metal wire around the bone, making sure it was secure before cutting the excess off with the scalpel.

Harry then grabbed the thread and needle and went to work sewing himself up. He knew it was not a perfect job. He would likely have a scar for the rest of his life reminding him the lengths to which he went to protect the Stone until he could get it returned to his owner.

Harry moved his bloody hands to the last potion. Just before he could take a pull of it, the full realization of what he had done hit him. It was like something that had been stuck away had finally broken free and reminded Harry that this wasn't something that he should have done. He rolled off of the bed slightly, wincing as he felt something pull.

He dry heaved onto the floor for several minutes, looking to his bloodied hands. Was this going to be the price from now on? Was his blood going to the price for knowledge? To keep things safe?

Dust cawed slightly from inside the room and Harry could barely hear the crow.

He glanced to the last potion, still undrunk. Would he survive without it? Harry genuinely doubted it and for the first time, his mind wondered if he truly cared if he survived. Then Harry remembered the Horcruxes and he took the vial.

Regardless of everything else, Harry had to destroy the maker of those foul things. It was something that screamed within his soul. He wasn't sure if it was his own moral code or if it was his duties as the Pale Rider that made him want to destroy someone who had used the death of an innocent to make such a thing. One thing was certain though.

He would destroy them and the maker.

Harry drank down the vial of potion. It would accelerate his body's natural healing abilities. Unfortunately, it would also cause him to pass out for no less than twenty-four hours. There were spells that could do the same effect without the sleep being needed, but Harry didn't have the time to learn those spells just yet. Though, he was sure it could have been useful in sealing up the skin.

Harry dragged himself to a bed the room made and laid down on it. As he felt his body get heavy, and darkness over take him, he had one last thought. If he died there, then the Stone would still be quite safe.

-_Scene Break -_

It was near lunch time when the event happened that Dumbledore had been planning for. Immediately, he rose and grabbed his wand before heading down the steps towards the entrance of Hogwarts. He was unsurprised by the prompt action of Nicolas, but he had hoped for an extra day or so to try and have some progress in the search for the Stone.

He had barely informed the staff about it being missing and Nicolas was already there.

Dumbledore went out of the entry hall and out onto the grounds, seeing his friend and his wife moving up to him with a purpose.

Nicolas Flamel cut an impressive figure. His hair and beard were trimmed to a neat work, undoubtedly done by a professional in that it gave him an entitled look. He was broad of shoulder, though not as tall as Dumbledore was. He was dressed in a fine dark blue suit that was tailored to his form. A black cane was used to walk with. Nicolas' blue eyes bore into Dumbledore's. To Dumbledore who had lived a fraction of the man's life felt like he was staring into the night sky.

His wife, Perenelle, cut just as an impressive figure. In a charcoal colored suit, she looked conservative. Her silvery hair was drawn up into a bun and those blue eyes looked just as angry as Nicolas'. She was just a touch taller than Nicolas. If there was one thing the aged Veela could pull off, it was a look of sophistication.

Although, Dumbledore thought the Flamels were quite good at pulling off anger. It was understandable after all. "Good afternoon Nicolas, Perenelle." Dumbledore said, getting the both of them.

"Spare me the pleasantries Albus. What happened?" Nicolas asked in a hard tone. "You gave me assurance after assurance that my Stone would be safe in your care while you studied it. So, tell me. What happened?"

Dumbledore could understand his mentor's ire. It was hard not to when he had given quite a few assurances that the Stone would be safe inside of Hogwarts. "Perhaps we could take this to my office?" he asked. "I do not think we want this conversation to be aired in public." He also didn't want his own failings being aired publically. Then again, no one wanted that so he could hardly be blamed for wanting that.

Nicolas nodded after a brief glance to Perenelle who gave a small nod. The trio then moved inside the castle. Dumbledore made quick work of leading them up towards his office.

"This school has begun to decline at an even faster rate since I have last been here." Nicolas said as he glanced around. "But the Wards are surprisingly strong. Like a few have been recently charged."

"There… have been a few incidents." Dumbledore said as he led them up to his office. He conjured a comfortable sofa for the couple to sit on while he took his seat behind his desk.

"What sort of incidents?" Perenelle asked before her husband could start tearing chunks from Dumbledore. She knew her husband was a bit over protective of the Stone. Even if they had discussed in length about stopping their dosage of the elixir, Nicolas was still protective of the Stone due to many other properties it had. "You know we're not generally rash people Albus, but this Stone was the work of many decades. Even to this day we barely know what all it does."

"In the past two weeks, I have had a Mountain Troll inside my school that almost killed two students and I have had a possessed Professor die Perenelle." Dumbledore said honestly and a tad bluntly. "I just found out that the Stone was missing last night, though I would say it has been missing for about a week. I failed to place some additional security around it because in truth I had not expected just anyone to figure out that it was in the school. The only people that knew were myself, Severus Snape who is no longer with us, Rubeus Hagrid, and Minerva McGonagall, my Deputy.

"My first priority was obviously contacting the both of you to inform you that the Stone was missing. I have yet to conduct a proper search for the Stone before you two arrived. How you arrived in Britain before Fawkes had even returned is beyond me. I have been having a bad week Nicolas, Perenelle. Between the troll, the death of one of my Professors, and finding out that Voldemort had been in the castle, I have quite frankly been stretched a touch thin." Dumbledore didn't want to give any excuses, but he had to give the entire situation in blunt truthful detail to the two. "Frankly, I'm at my wits ends on how to determine who has the Stone, and I welcome any and all assistance that the two of you could provide in this situation." Dumbledore said.

Perenelle cut her husband off before he could say where Dumbledore can stick his excuses. "Perhaps if we were to just ask the students and staff if they took the Stone? It is almost time for lunch, correct?" She said, glancing to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore nodded and stood up. "That sounds like a grand idea. I will, of course, cede to whatever decision you two decide to do with the Stone once it has been found." He wasn't going to attempt to keep it any longer. Not after it had been successfully stolen right out from under his nose.

The trio stood up and headed down to the Great Hall where almost everyone was sitting down to eat. "Students," Dumbledore started, stepping up to a podium. "Today we have a special guest with us who would like to ask something of all of you. If you could lend him your ears for just a moment, I'm sure we can settle this for a moment."

Nicolas stepped up to the podium once Dumbledore relinquished it and cleared his voice for a moment. "Students and staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I am Nicolas Flamel, the famed Alchemist. Early this summer, I had loaned your Headmaster one of my creations. Albus informed me of some of the precautions he took to keep my creation safe, but it has been found missing." Nicolas paused here to let it sink in.

"I'm looking for a Plum sized stone of the brightest blood red color you can imagine, clear as crystal and irregularly formed. My wife and I will be remaining inside of Hogwarts until after dinner before we return to France. Please, if you are the one that took the Stone, hand it over. You are not in trouble; I will not tell anyone that you took it." He paused once again, letting information sink in for the students. He didn't blame them in the slightest; the whole spiel of 'Third Floor corridor being out of bounds for those not seeking a most painful death' would have caused some simple teenage rebellion.

When he saw no one standing up in the slightest, he decided to try and sweeten the deal. "I will pay you your weight in pure gold for the return of my stone." Nicolas said. Fact of the matter was he and his wife both had more than enough money to pay ten times that amount. Being around for almost seven centuries made it quite obvious that they were filthy rich. "Thank you for your time." Nicolas said and stepped down, leading his wife out of the Great Hall.

Almost instantly mutters went up. Most of them couldn't fathom a stone being worth that much. Dumbledore was a little worried with the announcement, wondering if a few would try to foolishly trick the Alchemy master regarding his Stone. It was not exactly a smart thing to do.

Unfortunately, by the time dinner rolled by, the Stone did not show back up. Nicolas' warning to Dumbledore about needing to find it lest dire consequences occurred did nothing to help Dumbledore's feelings in the slightest.

His hands were tied on all the methods that would allow him to definitely find the student that had it. He couldn't just dose the lot with Veritaserum or start calling for Wizard's Oaths.

-_Scene Break-_

Every muscle in his body ached as Harry awoke. His head pounded in absolute agony and his entire body felt entirely too stiff. Slowly he began to sit up, hearing voices and wondering if he could somehow keep them down to a minimum.

"Easy there Mr. Potter, you have just had a very rough twenty-four hours."

Harry felt he could recognize that voice. But his vision was still blurry and his head was pounding. He heard Dust caw slightly in worry, the crow obviously fretting. It confused Harry slightly. Dust was usually like a rock, even when he was pushing Harry to his limits and beyond.

Finally, he began to look around as his vision cleared up better. On a stool he saw the Sorting Hat somehow, with Fawkes the Phoenix sitting at the foot of the bed, trilling softly and tilting his head to the side as he examined Harry.

Harry blinked twice before he turned to look at Dust for a moment. The events came back and he checked his side, noticing that the wound looked a lot better than it should have been. Of course, he was going to wait for the stitches to naturally dissolve so that he wasn't attempting to cut them out, but his side was healing a lot faster than what the potion should have done.

"What happened?" He asked. His tone was a little firm and a little more in control than he had been the past week since Dust offered the idea of cutting himself open. Even now, the idea didn't send as much shivers through him as he thought it would. Obviously Dust had suppressed his emotions once more.

After the anxiety filled week, he was glad to have them suppressed. He didn't linger on the fact he gave himself a scar. What was done, was done. He would also have to do it again eventually, but hopefully Nicolas had a professional that could cut Harry open to retrieve the Stone instead.

"What happened, Mr. Potter, is you almost died and Hogwarts responded. She brought Fawkes and me to this room, despite it being locked and sealed. As a Phoenix, Fawkes' tears are a powerful healing agent." The Sorting Hat said. There was no sugar coating the situation, there was no need to.

Harry took that statement for what it was. It was a reprimand from the Sorting Hat, and through it the school. "I screwed up on the procedure." Harry said simply, looking to the Sorting Hat a bit more.

"Quite. I have heard of a great deal of stupidly reckless stunts Mr. Potter. Being in the Headmaster's office year in and year out has seen to that. And what you did was indeed quite stupid and reckless. Perhaps I was wrong to place you into Ravenclaw. I have already seen fit to berate Dust for his suggestion that nearly saw your life slip away. You have roles to play Mr. Potter and not just your role as the Pale Rider."

Harry slowly got out of the bed. He stretched himself a little bit so that he could have most of his movement. He planned to keep from strenuous activity for the next two weeks, just to be on the safe side. "I want to protect the Stone until I could get it to Flamel." Even as he said it, that sounded like a flimsy excuse for what he had done.

"Then perhaps you should have waited a bit longer. Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel have already come to the castle and left. Albus had informed them the Stone was missing the same night he moved the Mirror." The hat retorted.

Harry felt a flash of irritation at that. "Hindsight is a very cruel mistress indeed." He said after a moment. He watched the Hat for a moment before he pressed a hand to his side. "A cruel mistress indeed." He muttered as he got dressed.

"So what sort of trouble am I in?" Harry asked as he adjusted everything so that he once more looked like the model student he portrayed. The hood of his robes was tucked inside between the robes and the school uniform, making it near impossible to see.

"You have been assigned a detention by Professor Aurora Sinistra. You missed your Astronomy class, so this Friday night will see you in her classroom at Eight P.M. sharp." The hat replied. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is still on hold, though Albus has seemed to have found a temporary replacement, at least until the end of the school year."

Harry nodded and helped settle Dust on his shoulder. He checked his wand and knife before he slipped his bag onto his shoulder. "Anything else?" he asked.

There was a slight thud of something heavy hitting wood and Harry raised an eyebrow at the sound coming from the Sorting Hat. "Hogwarts is giving you this item, place it with the other two. She seems certain you shall find something soon to complete the set and wishes you to present the set all at once rather than in piecemeal."

Harry moved over to the hat and lifted it up by the point. A beautiful blade seemed to start sliding out and Harry gently grabbed the blade so it didn't slice open his hand. He then lifted it up as he set the Sorting Hat back down on the stool.

He examined the blade, looking over the ruby encrusted hilt. To him that seemed a bit excessive, but he wasn't sure if the weapon was more decorative or not. He turned it carefully and paused, seeing the name of Godric Gryffindor. The school thought he would complete the set soon?

"Wait. The school is sentient?" Harry asked, suddenly picking up on that little fact.

"As much magic that occurs in these halls, the wards around the school, the magical creatures around, and the major connection of several magical leylines and you're surprised that Hogwarts is sentient?" The hat sounded amused at that.

Well, when put like that. "No, not really." Harry said. He looked himself over and glanced to the sword. How was he supposed to get this to Ravenclaw Tower?

A bag plopped down onto the bed. He shook his head slightly at both the school and the room. He moved over and found the bag to be much, much bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. That would certainly be handy. He began to tuck the sword into the bag and then placed his own bag into it. It wouldn't do to be carrying around two bags after all.

"Say, Hat," Harry began.

"Amadeus." The Hat said suddenly.

"Pardon?" Harry asked blinking.

"Helga named me Amadeus after I was enchanted." The Hat explained.

Harry nodded softly. Amadeus the Sorting Hat. He wasn't sure how to think on that. "Amadeus then… Would it be possible to take things from this Room that it provides? Such as books?"

"Indeed Mr. Potter, and if I could recommend, it is highly encouraged. The Room of Requirements has obtained such clutter over the years from students. It really does need cleaned out." Amadeus said.

Harry nodded and turned on his heel and headed out of the room. He had a lot to think about and even more to do.

Though, one fact did stick with him and caused him to have more determination in everything he did.

He had almost died in his hubris. It wouldn't be his last mistake, but he would learn from it.

He had to.

-Chapter End-

A/N: So… yeah… I didn't like this chapter either. It flowed well enough I suppose, I just didn't like it. No real idea.

Chapter 14 will see us getting into the Holidays, I hope.


	14. Book 1: Chapter 14

_Last Time: Dumbledore has informed Nicolas Flamel of his stone being missing. Flamel travels to Hogwarts with an excellent offer for the student that has his stone, except Harry did not hear it. He performs surgery on himself to put the stone inside of his body, a surgery that almost kills him. Harry has learned the hard way that Hindsight is twenty-twenty. He is also gifted with Godric Gryffindor's sword from the school._

Book One: Death

Chapter 14

After his monumental failure at safe guarding the Philosopher's Stone, Harry buckled back down on his studies into the various forms of magic. And truth be told, it was all he could consider the operation to put the Stone inside of his body as. Yes, it was inside of his body and safe, however he had almost died accomplishing the feat. Worse, hindsight told him had he waited another few hours, he would have been able to give the Stone to its rightful owner.

Hindsight was truly a vicious thing.

Harry was glad for the scar that was going to be on the left side of his body. It would forever cement what had happened to him in his mind. It was a constant reminder that he was not invincible, even if he was the Horsemen of Death. There were still plenty of things that could kill him, and until he found his Cowl, he had already used his one free pass.

Harry sighed as he continued to work on the books in the peacefulness of the Come and Go Room, or the Room of Requirements as Amadeus had called it. Ice Magic was definitely prominent in his stack of books, as were the various journals of the Founders. He whole heartedly expected them to be quite different than what they were portrayed as nowadays. He expected it to be a bit of gritty reading.

With how early he had gotten accustomed to waking up, along with his current injury, he spent his mornings within the Room of Requirements until it was time to head down to breakfast. In those few hours, he learned more and more, constantly taking notes in a journal of his own. He started with Ice Magic mostly because of his Aura. He needed to be able to do a lot more with Ice.

He took the books on Death Magic and stuffed them into the bag that the room had given. It definitely wasn't sorted in the slightest, but the truth was he couldn't experiment and perform Death Magic in Hogwarts. Well, he kind of could. There were no spells or wards stopping him after all so long as his experiments weren't endangering the students or staff. But the fact of the matter was he had no sacrifice that he could offer up for the Death Magic. He planned to get some chickens at the start of summer, maybe a Goat or two.

Though, he did start reading on the various rituals and warding that could be done with Death Magic and he came across one phrase often. The 'White Goat' was a euphemism for a human sacrifice, so most of those he didn't plan on doing. He'd try to substitute out the human sacrifice for something less… extreme such as the aforementioned chickens.

He had found a few rituals that also intrigued him. He could Raise the Dead apparently. And not the Inferi like Voldemort had risen during his reign of terror. Though, he did find a journal of a Hogwarts Student that had detailed the process of making Inferi. It was a bit of a creepy read. No, Harry could summon a corpse from its grave and it would be able to talk. It would have the personality of the person that had died.

There were a few things he would need in order to do such a ritual, such as a chicken for the sacrifice and as a meal for the raised dead, but he was certain he could perform it.

Harry stretched himself out a bit as he closed up his works and returned the books to their bookshelves. He then moved to his throne like chair once more and leaned back. Only the other Riders, or those that knew they were the Riders, would be allowed into this room Harry had decided. He opened his eyes to look at the three barren portions of the rooms. He could have filled them in, but the fact of the matter was he didn't know the other Riders… not yet at least.

Harry closed his eyes once more and began to push his Deathly Aura out once more. He could feel the chill running along him and he embraced it. His magic had been getting stronger and stronger the more he used it, and his Aura more noticeable. Before, when the frost started to creep in, he was generally on the verge of turning more skeletal.

Now he looked completely serene. He glanced around. In the small room the slight fog at his feet was dense. He just had to keep practicing it, it would get easier and easier the more he worked on it and he intended to work on it as much as possible. It would make his Ice Magic a lot easier.

Finally, he turned it back down. Just enough that the other students wouldn't stare and he rose to his feet and headed out of the Room of Requirements. Harry briefly glanced around to the other students that began to make their way out of the various Dorms and down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

It seemed they were talking about the upcoming Christmas Holidays. The Hogwarts Express would return the students to London on the twentieth of December and return the students back to the castle on the fourth of January. Of course, it was still two weeks away so that the students could all sign up to leave the castle if they wished to.

Harry's name had already been jotted down onto the parchment. He had a busy Holiday and he was needed outside of the castle so that he could get through everything in a timely manner. He had a scant two weeks to view the various Potter and Black properties as well as one possible Hogsmeade location that he intended to buy up when he could.

He had to tour each of them to determine if they needed brought out of stasis, if they needed House Elves, if they needed renovations, everything that he possibly could need. He didn't even particularly care that he was planning to spend Christmas alone.

The Dursleys were no family of his. At the moment, he had no one and that suited him just fine. He might actually be working on his Magic on Christmas anyways. He also didn't really expect any packages.

He entered the Great Hall and made his way towards his usual spot and sat down. He got Dust his toast before he started to get some food of his own. He had just picked up his goblet of orange juice when it happened.

The screeching of owls signaled the arrival of mail. But Harry never really received anything outside of Gringotts and most of that was confidential and thus was moved between the secure deposit boxes he always carried with him when he was working on his finances, like he did in the mornings.

Harry had not expected the 'whump' of a scroll landing on his plate of food. He glanced up from what he was working on and looked to the scroll, only for a second one to land with it.

Harry glanced up and watched as several hours dove down, dropping scrolls and letters onto his spot at the table and he just barely moved his books out of the way before they began to over fill onto his book. "What is all this?" Harry asked rhetorically.

He had to stand up as they began to spill onto his lap. Dust cawed angrily and even Harry felt his aura flare up at the sheer mass of scrolls and letters. Worse, most of them were formally sealed and stamped, meaning he would have to go through each and every one of them individually.

There were some chuckles moving throughout the Great Hall at Harry's reaction to all of the mail. Though when his only letter received by an owl had been a Gringotts letter, it was understandable that all of the mail he was currently piled with was a completely new concept to him. Worse, his food was somewhere in there and had he not had his goblet in hand, it would have spilled over the letters.

Professor Flitwick thankfully had come over, though amusement was indeed on his face. He looked at the steadily growing pile that spilled onto the floor as one last invite landed among them and the Owls had finally stopped. "Would you like some assistance Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked chuckling a little bit.

His secure deposit box from Gringotts also dinged, signaling one last letter.

Harry sighed heavily as he looked to the mountain of scrolls and letters. His wand came up and the _Incendio_ spell was on the tip of his tongue. However, he slowly lowered his arm and put his wand away. "I would love some help Professor." He said.

He then started to get some organization to the mess. Scrolls were stacked neatly and letters were also done just as neatly. Literally dozens of pieces of mail in one day and Harry took the time to neatly pile them back up so they weren't interfering with anyone eating anymore.

Thankfully Flitwick helped get the stuff that had fallen off the floor. He then took a moment to wave his wand over them all. He did it several times before he tucked it away. 'All of your mail is safe Mr. Potter; I'm not reading anything potentially harmful from my scans." He then headed back towards the Staff Table.

Harry slowly sat back down once more and ran his hands over his face. He got some more food once more and ate it quickly this time. He pinched the bridge of his nose slightly wanting to groan. But he started on the mail anyways.

The first piece he picked up was an invite to Professor Slughorn's Slug Club's Christmas dance. He set that to the side, starting a simple 'No' pile. He wasn't going to be in the castle. He briefly wondered if the Professor knew that.

And that began the general tone for the situation Harry found himself in. They were formal invitations to various Balls being held. Apparently, several of the students had heard that the Potter Heir wasn't going to be in the castle during the Winter Holidays and had their families send him an invite to their family's ball or as their family's guest to another family's ball.

Most of these went with Slughorn's invitation in a very firm 'No' pile. Simply put, he had prior engagements that required his attention. He wasn't going to cancel a meeting with the Goblins simply to go dancing and mingling.

However, a few were brought to his attention that he wasn't sure if he was doing anything at that time so he had to take out his planner. He generally was going to be working on two properties per day. The Potter Manor was going to take a day in and of itself, so maybe he could shuffle that around so he could do an event that evening. The Black Ancestral home was also going to be taking up most of a day, so he might be able to pull off another event. Even still, he had over two dozen properties to look at.

Harry set his planner down and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Finally, he put his glasses back on and decided to redo things. People who had children he was on a first name basis, he moved into a tentative 'maybe' pile.

He was about halfway through the letters when he got another form of invite. It made him want to absolutely hex someone until they couldn't even see straight anymore. He could feel his Deathly Aura being affected by his irritation. He had families offering their home to stay in for the duration of the Holidays.

Harry sighed a bit and glanced up to the Staff Table. Though it was another Tuesday where he only had Defense Against the Dark Arts and Astronomy, he knew he had to be in class again. Missing Astronomy had… well… he wasn't against black marks on his record, but it still felt unnecessary now and that was what he loathed. He despised that it had been unnecessary.

Harry let his lips quirk into a smile a bit at the new DADA. Dumbledore had pulled a stroke of genius; even Harry was willing to admit that much despite his qualms against the man. Dumbledore managed to snag Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt for the position of DADA.

He had been quite the success so far, even going so far as to pull some practice OWL and NEWT tests for the upper years to make sure that they would be ready for them at the end of the year. But he was also there as a link to the Auror office, in case anything else went wrong.

Harry frowned and turned back to his various letters. He began to go through them again, knowing he would have to personally decline each and every one of them that he could. Several offered for him to stay with them during the Holidays. He got a few invites for Christmas and Boxing Day.

Harry stared at the latest invite he had received. He wasn't entirely sure why he was getting it. An invite to stay with the Holyhead Harpies over the Holidays may be a dream for some, but Harry had no love of the sport and had no idea who any of the women were personally. He put that in the very definitive 'No' pile.

Harry really wanted to know who had let it slip he wasn't staying with his family but he wasn't staying at the castle. While the invites were indeed flattering, they were from some people he didn't know or relatives of people he barely spoke to.

Harry came across an invite to the Ministry New Year's Ball and he put that in the 'Maybe' pile. It would be good to see what the current political climate was like. He had a bit of an idea given the pompous strutting of Draco Malfoy like he was untouchable, but it still wouldn't hurt.

Harry took the 'Maybe' pile and began to better look through the dates, tucking them into the 'No' pile when they clashed with his schedule with the Goblins. He had the schedule since October, he wasn't going to be able to re-arrange too much to it without causing someone a tizzy.

Invites for him to stay with the family in question during the Holidays were also placed into the 'No' pile. He had entirely too much work to be done to be coming and going and answering to someone's worried parents.

With his pile cut down once more, Harry placed the Ministry Ball invite into a new 'Yes' pile and penned it into his schedule. He also made a note to request a change in schedule with Ironskull of the Black Ancestral Home from Boxing Day to New Year's Eve and the Houses that were meant to be checked on New Year's Eve placed to Boxing Day.

That shouldn't cause too much of a problem. He then jotted the note down and placed it into the Black Account Security Box. It dinged after a moment, indicating that it had been sent.

Harry then began to go through the various other letters. Invites to stay on Christmas were placed in the 'No' pile. He was examining Potter Manor on that day, something he wasn't going to change in the slightest. He wanted to be in the home that the Potters had been using for centuries.

With a few more invites, he glanced through them slowly. Finally though, he settled on one more invite to accept. Amelia Bones had invited him to spend some time on Boxing Day with her, Susan, and the Abbots. He did sort of owe Amelia a bit more than the others. The rest he tucked into the 'No' pile and jotted in his planner for Lunch with the Bones on Boxing Day.

He could have also, possibly, arranged lunch with a few more groups. But the fact of the matter was that he had no idea when he would finish inspecting each of the properties. He could be having an early Lunch or a late Lunch. It was just better to do it that way than worry another family regarding when he would arrive. That would hardly be fair to them after all.

Harry took the moment to organize his 'No' pile into a few groups. He tucked those that he would have to mail a decline to into his bag. He would do that later, after his nap before Astronomy class. He then alphabetized the names of those he would be Declining in person, or at least to the students there at Hogwarts. He also sorted it into Houses and then years so he could hopefully get it done a little bit faster.

He saved one particular letter to the side for the time being. He had to check something from Rotgut.

He opened the box and read through the parchment, his eyes widening slightly before a frown crossed his face. His frown only deepened as he regarded what it meant and he folded it up. He was quite tempted to destroy it then and there. He didn't, he tucked it carefully into his bag that was within the expanding bag. That should keep it safe for at least a little while.

Finally, Harry stood up and grabbed the letter he had set aside. It would be best to get this particular one out of the way immediately before class. He strode up towards the Staff Table and paused before Professor Slughorn. Harry gently placed the letter on the table.

"Thank you for the gracious invitation Professor Horace Slughorn, however I must regrettably and humbly decline." Harry said. "I have pressing business that has been scheduled for quite some time now that sees me out of the castle for the Holidays. You have my deepest and most sincere apologies." Harry then turned and walked away, heading out of the Great Hall.

He'd get the students outside of breakfast.

-_Scene Break-_

It was Saturday and Harry reveled in the pain filling his chest and his legs as he rushed about. His 'detentions' with Flitwick had finally graduated up to Dueling. Most of the time he lost, but every now and then he would win. Then Flitwick would take it up a notch and he'd be back on his losing streak.

They were doing about four or five duels every Saturday now.

Harry vaulted over one of the rocks that the Charms Master had provided for cover. There wasn't a whole lot of cover, but there was plenty for Harry to move around with and attempt to get closer to Flitwick.

Harry ducked under a spell and flicked his hand up. The mist around his feet condensed and formed a thick slab of ice that took the brunt of Flitwick's Leg-locker Hex. He had been getting a lot better at using Ice Magic, especially with as high as his Deathly Aura was.

He moved out of the way from the Blasting Hex that completely shattered his slab of ice. He told himself to keep moving, that he couldn't stop at all costs. He should be using Stinging and Gouging Hexes to try and take down Flitwick, but the fact of the matter was he had to also keep his magical energy up as best as he could. He needed his magic to shield from Flitwick's spells.

Harry ducked and rolled under another Volley of chained together spells. Flitwick loved using his chained spells, one motion leading into another and giving Harry hardly any breathing room in the slightest. But he still came up just before Flitwick who had a spell on his lips when Harry dropped his wand and pushed Flitwick's wand away. Harry's knife flicked out of its sheath and pressed against the Charms Professor's throat.

"Yield." Harry breathed heavily. He was starting to wonder if he should maybe give up working out on Saturdays given how effectively Flitwick had him moving around just to dodge the Professor's spell work.

"I yield Harry. Excellent Job today." Flitwick said, backing up slightly.

Harry nodded and tucked his knife away before he retrieved his wand. That also went into his holster. While Harry fully expected Flitwick to eventually pull some dirty tricks, he seriously doubted it would be that year. Flitwick was still getting a read on him apparently.

The two then moved into Flitwick's office, the classroom changing back to normal as they walked. It was quite the impressive piece of magic, though according to Flitwick he often did it the night before so that he would have plenty of magic in order to duel with Harry.

Flitwick sat at his desk and flicked his wand to pour the tea. He took a healthy drink of it before he regarded Harry. "I have come to figure out what sort of duelist you are Harry."

Harry was most interested in that. It would mean they could take the training up a level so he sat up a bit straighter and drank some of the tea to feel a bit more invigorated.

"At first, I thought you to be a well-rounded sort of Duelist. A Duelist duelist to those in the trade. Stupid name really, but it stuck for the most rounded of Duelist. Someone that is not too skilled in any particular area. But then I started to notice your natural reactions. You tend not to use strong offensive spells in favor of using stronger Shield magic." Flitwick said.

Harry shrugged slightly. "I generally have a knife with me." He said like it made the most sense. "Plus, I don't know much offensive magic."

"Yet all it would take would be a lance of ice through one of my spell chains to defeat me like you've already done." Flitwick pointed out.

Harry frowned a moment. "Those lances take a lot of energy." They took entirely too much energy and he usually had a nosebleed afterwards. He knew he need to practice them, but he couldn't really do it more than once or twice a day so far.

"This is precisely my point Harry." Flitwick said bouncing in his seat a little bit. "You're style is all about conserving energy for your shields. Strong shields of magic and ice nonetheless. You are a Fortress Duelist." He said happily.

"Pros and Cons?" Harry asked as he drank some more tea.

"The Cons are that a Fortress tends to rely too heavily on shields. But you already have an advantage over most of the Fortresses that I've faced off against Harry; you never stand still during a duel. You're constantly moving, even if you're letting a spell miss you by the fraction of a hair. You shield instead of attacking until you're absolutely sure your spell will connect and do the most damage. This is a sign of a Fortress. The Pros to being a Fortress Duelist are that most Duelists don't have the fire power to break down your shields in a single spell. So while you cast one shield, they've casted anywhere from two to ten shields to break through." Flitwick paused, letting everything sink in as he took a drink of tea to quench his parched mouth.

"I plan to train you, even past these detentions Harry. I myself happen to be a Spell Weaver Duelist, the natural enemy of the Fortress. Spell Weavers tend to link spells together far and spread, making it difficult to shield or to dodge and once we've started we're difficult to stop. The problem is it takes us a while to get to where we can make it look effortless, and after five or six chains it will start to drag on us. Fortress Duelists are Duelists who work with attrition. A Spell Weaver works on pure aggression Harry."

Harry chuckled a little bit. Flitwick's enthusiasm was something to behold really, especially when it came to Dueling. The eighty something year old Professor looked to be ten years younger when speaking about the things he was passionate about. "You know I have no interest in becoming a Professional Duelist, right Professor?" Harry asked. "I plan to enter into Business and possibly Politics, try to make a new Glory for the Potter name."

"True, but tell me something Harry. What would the fame of being a skilled Duelist at a young age hurt either of your ambitions?" Flitwick asked.

Harry raised his cup of tea, acknowledging Flitwick's point. There was nothing that would hurt his ambitions if he managed to make a name of himself in the Dueling Circuit. Maybe he could look to it another year, when his schedule wasn't so full.

As it stood, he had to get to France sometime in the summer to return Flamel his Stone.

-_Scene Break-_

It was finally time to leave Hogwarts. Harry had his trunk in hand, ready to board the train. He was all bundled up nice and snugly to keep away the chill of the Scottish Highlands Winter. He noticed that there were a fair few people leaving the castle for the Holidays. Not many, but certainly enough.

He boarded the train and made his way to an empty compartment. His sign of 'Knock First' and a sticking charm later found himself hopefully quite alone for the next several hours while they made their way towards London.

He hefted his trunk up to the overhead compartment and sat down with a book on Conjuration. He was hoping that by the time that he returned to the castle he'd be ready to start practicing it.

The train hadn't left yet when a knock sounded on the door. Harry sighed softly. Maybe he should have thrown up his Deathly Aura. He was an anti-social individual. Still, Flitwick's words of trying to make some friends did still remain in his head.

He still didn't understand them, but he took them to heart at least.

So he stood up and crossed over to the door and slid it open. He blinked to see Hermione there. "May I?" she asked, inclining her head towards the mostly empty compartment.

Harry sighed and held the door open, shifting out of the way. "Sure." He said. He hoped she didn't badger him with questions about his book. He was hopeful, yes, but it was the only thing to keep him from groaning.

She entered, dragging her trunk behind her. She set her book down in a seat and was about to lift her trunk up when Harry grabbed it from her. "I got it." He told her, lifting it up and putting it in the overhead compartment effortlessly.

"Thank you." Hermione said, sounding relieved as she sat down and was about to pick up her book.

Harry sat down and opened his book when he heard a gasp and glanced up to see Hermione staring at the title of his book.

"That's a book on Conjuration!" she said sounding like a mix between excitement and awe. "Wherever did you find it?" Hermione asked. "Isn't it really advanced magic?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose slightly. "Hermione, I found it. That's all I'm going to tell you. I've found a lot of books at Hogwarts, a fair few of them in my trunk." He closed his book as he stared to her brown eyes. "Second, it is advanced magic. However, it is also beginning Conjuration. I'm not trying to conjure intricate things just yet. At best, I might manage a wooden spoon right now, if I'm lucky."

Harry then pointedly opened his book once more and glanced down. "And I would like to read this book and finish it before I get back to London. If you let me, I might be inclined to find a matching book for you when we get back to Hogwarts." He said.

It was only the Conjuration textbook from when Conjuration was a given elective, so he seriously doubted he wouldn't find another book.

They started to move and Harry continued to read. It was maybe ten minutes after they left Hogsmeade station when a second knock sounded on the door. Harry closed his book and stood up, making his way over to the door.

Opening it, he saw Millicent Bullstrode with her own luggage. "Harry, would you mind if I sat with you?" she asked.

Harry opened the door wider and stepped aside. He already had one tag along, a second wouldn't likely hurt.

Millicent stepped in, pausing just slightly to see Hermione before she dug a book out of her trunk and was about to lift her trunk. Harry waved her off. 'I have it Millie." He said. He then lifted it up and slid it into the overhead compartment.

He then sat back down and picked up his book, noticing that Millicent and Hermione sat with one seat between them while Harry sat across from them in the middle seat.

"Thank you for this Harry." Millicent said as she found her place in her book.

"Don't thank me yet." Harry said looking up. "You two both know that I do not play favorites between Houses or between Blood status. I hear any form of bigotry and I'll have to ask you to leave the compartment. If you're unwilling, I'll look for a Hufflepuff Prefect to help you leave." He said bluntly.

Millicent held up both hands. "Won't hear it from me." She said. "It's sort of why I tried to find a different place to sit. Pansy was trying to drag me to sit with Draco and while Vincent and Greg can be conversational, they tend not to be when Draco is around. The whole blood purity spiel that Draco tries to shovel around is frankly disgusting." Millicent offered a slight smirk. "Doesn't mean Slytherin won't win the House Cup." She said competitively.

Hermione snorted a bit. "Not with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle. No offense, but having had several classes with them leaves me feeling underwhelmed at their academic abilities." Hermione countered. "So the House Cup will go the House of the Brave and Courageous."

"Well, Greg isn't too bad. He has trouble reading the work, especially with everything being pretty much hand written. He can work it through and he's fairly intelligent, he just has difficulty reading." Millicent said. "Vincent on the other hand… unfortunately about as bright as a box of rocks."

"Sounds to me like Mr. Goyle has a learning disability such as dyslexia." Harry said, not even looking up from his book. He had no interest in being pulled into a competition on who would win the House Cup. The Ravenclaw first year simply had no interest one way or the other.

"Dyslexia?" Millicent asked, sounding confused.

"Dyslexia is a reading disorder where the brain can't quite figure out what certain letters and numbers are. You and I could read the word 'teapot' as 't-e-a-p-o-t'; a Dyslexic would instead possibly read the word as 't-a-e-g-o-t'. A Dyslexic person isn't stupid per say, but they would have difficulty reading." Harry offered as an explanation. "Non-magical people just love coming up with ideas about everything possibly wrong."

Millicent seemed fascinated by the prospect. "Do you think it's possible that Greg could be cured?" she asked sounding hopeful.

"Cured? No, I don't believe a cure exists. All you can do is be patient and supportive." Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. "It is scary sometimes how much you know."

Harry glanced up to Hermione. "To be fair, my cousin is Dyslexic. Of course, his mother and father spoil him rotten and believe nothing can possibly be wrong with him." Harry shook his head and put his nose back into his book. He didn't want to talk about his relatives any more than absolutely necessary.

And even then that was too much for him.

Hermione seemed to notice that Harry didn't want to talk about it so she changed the subject. "Millicent, what are you reading?" she asked.

"Oh, just a book on Illusions. My family has always had a bit of a knack for them." The Slytherin girl said.

"Illusions?" Hermione despaired. "But that's rather advanced magic as well. Where did you get that book?" She craved the knowledge and anyone around her knew that.

"Probably the same place Harry got the book on Conjuration." Harry glanced up, briefly wondering if Millicent knew about the Room of Requirements. "The House Library. Slytherin House has all sorts of books on all sorts of magic. I wouldn't be surprised if Ravenclaw had an even more extensive library."

Harry snorted a bit and glanced back down to his book. 'Hate to burst your bubble Millie, but I didn't get my book from the House Library. Professor Flitwick tends to keep the more advanced magic under lock and key. Some of the older years are able to borrow it, but never for long periods of time. I found this book somewhere else in Hogwarts. Though, I can get you a book on Enchanting if you'd like."

"Yes please." Both girls said at the same time, making Harry chuckle slightly.

"But the Houses have a Library?" Hermione asked sounding excited about the idea of having a library within Gryffindor tower.

"I would honestly doubt it for Gryffindor." Harry said, bursting Hermione's bubble. "Hogwarts is first and foremost a Castle. Castles used to be used as military installations. I wouldn't be surprised if Gryffindor, when helping renovate or building the castle chose to include an armory and a training area for those of his House. He wanted the Brave and the Courageous, those that would charge into the front lines beside him in case someone attacked Hogwarts. At least, that's what I think." He hadn't gotten to Godric's journals just yet.

Hermione pouted a bit. "Then what about the rest of the Houses?"

"I would suspect Hufflepuff having an armory and training area as well." Harry said after a moment. "The hard workers and loyal find that place home, so they would of course defend the school as well. Slytherins and the Ravenclaws would be support, so they would have more spell books for long range work. Hard to stop a Giant with a sword, but a bit of Battle Magic from afar would definitely turn that tide."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before she nodded slightly. She supposed she could understand that.

The ride back to London passed mostly in silence for the three First years. Harry once more bought a pot of tea from the trolley lady when she came by and he even shared it. He was thankful neither of the two girls asked about Harry's plans for the Holidays.

He was going to be busy most of the time anyways.

When he got to London, he helped the girls get their trunks down. He waited until the commotion died down a bit before he headed outside, carrying his luggage with him.

It was time for some busy holidays.

-End Chapter-

A/N: Nothing. I got nothing.

Adios.


	15. Book 1: Chapter 15

_Last Time: Harry has received dozens of invites for events during the Christmas Holidays, many of which he has declined. During one of his Dueling lessons with Flitwick, Harry has learned that he is a Fortress Duelist, a duelist that focuses more energy into Defending rather than attacking. The ride back to London for the Christmas Holidays was spent with Millicent Bullstrode and Hermione in relative peace._

Book One: Death

Chapter 15

Having found out about Floo Travel, it wasn't hard for Harry to find the Floo Network connected to King's Cross Station. Of course, they charged five Galleons a person, with an extra Galleon for each piece of luggage. Harry paid the money without the slightest bit of hesitation. He had the money to spare.

In truth, he could live off of his Trust vaults alone. Fifteen thousand Galleons a year was not something to scoff at. It equaled about five pounds per Galleon, so he was looking at about seventy five thousand pounds a year in his trust vaults.

He could give up six Galleons.

Harry came out at the Leaky Cauldron. While perhaps not the fanciest place he could have gone to for his winter Holidays, it did make for a good place to stay. He was friendly with Tom, it was near a major area of magic so it was difficult for the Ministry to monitor him, he could slip out into Muggle London if necessary, and people were constantly coming and going that no one would bat an eye at him coming and going every day.

"Tom, I need a room until the fourth of January." Harry said stepping closer to Tom and passing off the Galleons necessary. "I'll be coming and going a lot, so it doesn't have to be anything extravagant, but having a personal bathroom would definitely be welcome." Some rooms had them; others had to use one of four communal bathrooms in the Leaky Cauldron.

"That's extra Lad." Tom said as he started to count up the Galleons provided.

"There's extra there." Harry said simply.

Tom nodded and slid Harry a key. "Room 9." He told Harry.

"Appreciate it." Harry said before he began to make his way over towards the room. He deposited his luggage and glanced at the clock. It took the Hogwarts Express seven hours to make its trip in either direction.

Harry had a bit of time until he had to go meet with the Goblins. It was not a meeting he was looking forward to if he was honest with himself. He wasn't really sure what to make of it. When he had made his boon to the High King shortly after putting the Stone inside of himself, he hadn't been entirely certain if it would be allowed.

Harry removed his warmer robes and double checked his slacks and his dress shirt, making sure everything looked nice. He then removed the Harvester from his trunk and had it wrap around his left arm. Harry then pulled out the note he had received almost two weeks ago, flipping it over in his hand slowly as he examined it.

He had received an invite to dine with the High King Ragnarokk of the Goblin Nation. Not only that, but he received the invite for that day nonetheless instead of immediately. The twentieth of December, the High King did good work.

Harry drew his robes onto his form and began to walk out. He didn't have his scar hidden; he didn't have the usual red tips in his hair either. He was going to dine with the High King; he wouldn't hide himself in the slightest.

As he approached the brick wall leading into the alley, his wand flicked out and he tapped the proper bricks and the wall slid open. He was briefly surprised at how packed Diagon Alley was, but after a brief moment he reminded himself that it was the Holidays and as such there were bound to be people doing last minute shopping.

He had an hour before he was expected to dine with Ragnarokk, but Harry didn't stop for any of the shops. He didn't expect any presents, so it wasn't like he was going to give any. Harry drew up his Aura though as a few people recognized him. He welcomed the biting cold of the London winter. The snow falling on his shoulders and in his hair didn't bother him in the slightest. With his Deathly Aura up, it was very cold around him, making him more unapproachable.

He hated being crowded and he was already on a tight time schedule. He didn't know if he was expected to be in Ragnarokk's presence at seven, or if he was supposed to be in the bank at seven. Either way, he refused to be late because people wanted to crowd around him. Harry also recognized that his irritation at the people was causing his Aura to go even higher than he had anticipated. He had to reign in the impulses.

Harry arrived at the steps of Gringotts and made his way inside. The bank was always open, the Goblins always looking to make a bit of gold. Generally though, they were just the tellers and the Goblins operating the mine carts. After all, the older family Accounts were only managed by one Goblin. The smaller accounts could be handled by just about any Goblin.

Harry glanced to his invite to dine with Ragnarokk. Did he take it to a teller? Or did he ask to see his account manager? He began to move towards a teller. Either option saw him speaking with a teller anyways. Given the lines, he hoped he wasn't expected to report for the dinner by seven. It was a bit of a wait.

It wasn't surprising to Harry that the wait was quite a bit longer than he had anticipated. After all, it was the holiday season. That meant money come and going through the vaults. The Goblins may not celebrate Christmas, as seen by the fact Harry was touring Potter Manor on the twenty-fifth, but they did seem to love the money that the Holiday brought their way. It may not seem like much in the long run, but the fact of the matter was that certain businesses had to go through Gringotts to get their products and as such had to pay in higher quantity.

He knew that certain Dragon hides could only be obtained through Gringotts.

Finally, Harry got to speak to a teller and after a glance to the time he decided he'd just show the invitation to a teller. He slid it up to the counter wordlessly and watched as the Goblin read through it quickly, glancing up to Harry. "Have a seat to the side." The goblin said, sliding the invite back.

Harry accepted it and moved to sit down. He briefly wished he had brought a book to read, or brought Dust even, but he sat patiently and waited.

He briefly thought back to the crow, sitting in the rafters of the Leaky Cauldron near the chimney so that it could be nice and warm. Despite Harry's insistence that the tunnels would likely be warm, as well as the throne room, the bird absolutely refused to go anywhere in the cold more than it had to. Harry didn't really blame the bird for that though.

"Mr. Potter, follow me." Harry rose at the words of his Account Manager and began to follow Rotgut.

"I wasn't entirely sure on the etiquette behind the situation Master Rotgut." Harry said as he walked alongside the Potter Account Manager when they were out of the general public.

"I would have been more surprised if you did Mister Potter. Dining with the High King is not something any human can do after all. It has been quite some time since anyone had even seen him before you, to Dine with him… well I am not old enough to know. One of our historians might, but not me." Rotgut explained.

A wheezing cackle was heard and Harry glanced to his other Account Manager who had just joined them from a side passage. "Master Ironskull." Harry said in way of greeting.

"Mr. Potter. I doubt those stuffy scribes would know in the slightest of when a human has seen the High King or nonetheless dined with him. Rumor marks Arthur Pendragon as the last man to see the High King. Though, the likelihood of his existence is debated among Goblins as much as the name Merlin." Ironskull said with a twisted smirk. "Unfortunately there is not much left to their legacy except for stories, so that is what we treat them as… Stories."

Harry thought on what Ironskull was saying before he nodded slightly. Wizards at Hogwarts claimed Merlin's existence. Even claimed he was a Slytherin. Harry wasn't so sure. The Ministry hadn't even been a gleam in someone's eye at that point, so there would be no records of him. Gringotts hadn't been founded yet, so there was no vault of dusty gold just waiting for an heir to claim it.

Harry thought someone used the name of Merlin as a sort of publicity work to get the children to attend Hogwarts. They could learn from those that taught Merlin himself. Could that be all there was to Merlin? Was he just a fictional individual?

Harry thought back to what Dust had told him. All stories had a basis of truth inside of them. So it couldn't hurt to possibly believe that Merlin had existed. But the stories were quite possibly embellished greatly. Harry even seriously doubted that Hogwarts had seen him as a student.

Harry walked with his two Account Managers down into the depths of the caverns underneath Gringotts once more. The Magic behind all of it truly surprised Harry. He was almost certain some Mundane people would have found the tunnels, yet the tunnels were still unbroken by any sewer. Still, despite his awe and surprise at the magic behind it, Harry was still uncomfortable with the close darkness pressing in.

"Do Goblins have superior night vision to Humans?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes." Rotgut answered. "Wizards will always need more light than a Goblin to work in the dark or in the depths. We find ourselves quite at home inside the darkness Mr. Potter."

They came to the door that led into the throne room and it was opened at their approach. Inside was now a table full of food. High King Ragnarokk sat at the head of the table with his translator to his side. A small part of Harry was hoping that the High King wouldn't have to speak through his mouth piece that was still glaring at Harry.

Just a small part.

Harry stayed standing, even as Rotgut and Ironskull bowed to their High King. He supposed he could see how it could be constituted as being insulting. But he was still the Pale Rider. And until that position was passed onto someone, he would not Bow. Not in the slightest.

Ragnarokk however laughed. "Stones as solid as diamond." He reiterated his opinion. "Come, sit! Eat! We have much to talk about."

Harry followed the lead of his two Account Managers, taking a seat at the table. He didn't place himself right next to Ragnarokk. Instead, he sat at the opposite end of the table. It wasn't a particularly long table so Harry didn't think he was being insulting by sitting at the opposite end.

Harry did have the intelligence to wait with the other three Goblins at the table for the High King to start eating. Harry wasn't sure what sort of animal leg it was that the High King was starting with, but Ragnarokk seemed pleased with the food as he took the first bite.

It allowed for everyone to start eating and Harry's mouth was filled with the taste of lamb as he took a bite of the meat. It was delicious food and Harry found himself not caring that he ate a bit more than he intended.

"Now, Mr. Potter, of all the boons I have granted in my time as High King," Ragnarokk began before taking a drink from his goblet. "Yours comes across as something of a curiosity. You want Goblin made armor. And not just any Goblin made armor; you want some fine Goblin made armor with some of the best enchantments we can offer. Some, like the growth enchantment so it can resize to you as you continue to get bigger, are simple. Fire resistance enchantments are also just as easy. But enchantments that make it portable are a bit trickier. Not only that, you are asking for Goblin made Armor as a human. I find myself asking why." Ragnarokk said.

"Not just armor for me, but for a Horse as well." Harry said, but he could understand what Ragnarokk was asking. "Being the Pale Rider means that I'm one of the Riders that acts as… a sort of frontline foot soldier. I am not quite as combat proficient as War will be, nor will I ever be. However, both Pestilence and Famine act as more support than actual combat ready fighters.

"My supplies do not include a Shield and Armor set like War's does. I have a cloak, a cowl, my scythe, and a gauntlet." Harry explained. "The armor will keep me protected, and the armor for Despair will keep him protected. Will I depend on it? No. But it can mean the difference when I can't dodge or shield against something." He said

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, taking a bite of the roasted lamb leg. When he finished with the bite, he looked up once more to Ragnarokk. "As the Pale Rider, I will be out there eventually. I will have to respond to every breech of the veil between this World, and the next. There are things beyond the Veil that even the most gifted of Wizards will be incapable of handling. Imagine a horror straight from a nightmare, throwing pure darkness, lances of fire and ice, hurling tons worth of stones, incapable of feeling pain and incapable of dying. Only the Harvester is capable of causing these creatures pain, something they don't understand, something they don't normally feel. It enrages them. They do not play by our rules. Armor for Despair and me will offer just a second longer, maybe a second chance to get my scythe sunk into these creatures."

"These things sound as bad as a Dementor." Ragnarokk said, taking a drink from his goblet. "And are you telling me only you can handle them?"

Harry mused on that question for a moment. "A Dementor, even a Lethifold, is rather… easy to deal with. Heat, warmth, strong emotions like love, those sorts of things will always push a Dementor back. The creatures I speak of… Monstrous." Harry shook his head. "I dare not even name them for fear of summoning them. They can be stopped by normal people, but they cannot be pushed back, only contained. And the Veil is weakened by every one of those things that is contained and not pushed back. Most that break through are weak from doing so and will be easy to push back. Others though… Others are the things of Legends."

"It sounds like you fear these things." The translator said. It was obviously trying to undermine Harry before Ragnarokk who had taken a liking to Harry for some reason

"Fear…" Harry chuckled slightly. "Fear would be a good word for it. These monstrosities are terrifying. It would be like fighting a mountain. War will help, I know they will. But to not fear these things would be stupid. It would make me cocky, make me arrogant in the face of the danger that these things are. I don't have to worry about them yet, but I will. The Souls of the Past Riders give me a ten year grace period from the time that Dust found me. I have already used close to four. But they will need to rest for decades before they can do it again, meaning I must find the next Pale Rider in that time and train them in what needs to be done while still attending to my duties.

"Furthermore, the attacks have slowed over the centuries. This is something that bothers me. It bothers Dust as well, and he can only speculate as to what is happening. Are more of these things being pushed back than we realize? Are they being banished instead? We do not know." Harry said.

Harry then directed his gaze once more to the High King of the Goblin Nation. "I ask the Goblins for Armor because they are better at making what I need. I need something light weight to not interfere with my movement, but sturdy enough to take some damage. I could ask the Dwarves, they would argue that their work is better than the Goblins, but the fact of the matter is the Dwarves tend to make heavier arms and armor."

Ragnarokk motioned to one of his servants that brought in a tray of some bubbling liquid in five large mugs. Harry was quite surprised to see one placed before him and the Goblins looking to it thoughtfully. Except for Ragnarokk. "Grog is customarily drunk in informal setting like this for celebratory purposes. I am granting you your Boon Pale One, you and your horse shall have some of the finest armor that the Goblin Nation can craft." Ragnarokk took the first pull from the large mug.

"What… exactly is Grog?" Harry asked as the other Goblins took lesser drinks from their own mugs.

"Grog is… Well, it's generally not drunk in a formal setting, or around women." Rotgut said. "It's some of the headiest alcohol that the Goblins make. Drinking it warmed is considered a sign of stoutness."

"And generally something no human could possibly drink without blacking out." The translator spat.

Well, that settled it for Harry. He was going to see if he could politely decline drinking the alcohol. He was getting tired of the translator's bigotry. Harry grasped the handle of the mug firm and held it up, saluting the translator with it with a slight smirk. "Cheers!" he said cheerfully.

He then put it to his lips and began to drink. He wanted to cough and choke as it burned down to his stomach, but Harry didn't stop drinking down the Grog. He tilted his head and body back as he made sure to get everything that he could before he put the mug down hard on the wooden table.

Harry grimaced and coughed slightly. "Ugh… That is some of the foulest tasting stuff I have ever had." Harry said. His eyes even burned from the stunt and he briefly wondered if it was like drinking petrol. That one act probably put him off from alcohol for the rest of his life. Harry glanced up at the rest of the table, breathing a bit heavy seeing the stunned looks on the faces of the four Goblins.

Then Ragnarokk burst out laughing, a laugh that came from deep within and almost sounded like a cruel cackle. He took another drink of his Grog before turning to face his translator. "And that is why I have come to like the boy." He snarled at the translator. "He has rebuked you at every turn that he could and made you look like a fool without deliberately insulting you. Every single challenge towards him, he has made you look like a fool but even still you can't and won't attack him. You have no Right to."

The translator snarled a bit but ducked his head, recognizing the rebuke of the High King. The translator's bigotry would not be tolerated towards Harry Potter.

Harry ate a little bit more before he glanced to his watch. "High King Ragnarokk, the dinner has been wonderful, and while the Grog less so, the symbolism of it nonetheless appreciated. However, I have business tomorrow with these two Goblins starting early in the morning. I'm afraid I must take my leave now."

Plus, if Harry was honest, he wanted to go throw up and pass out… preferably in that order and not in the same location.

Ragnarokk nodded his head. "Go on then Pale One."

Harry rose to his feet and watched his Account Managers do the same. They then began to walk out in silence and Harry was thankful for that. He was already having a pounding headache and the sounds of shovels and pickaxes as they walked through the tunnels did nothing for that pounding.

Harry made his way out of the bank, heading back up to the Leaky Cauldron. His Aura was fluctuating, proving that Alcohol and magic definitively did not mix that well. He wasn't drunk, he still had depth perception and his vision wasn't blurry except for the tears the lingering burn caused. But he had a heavy buzz going on.

He made his way to his room where he managed to get to the private bathroom before throwing up. A quick _Incendio_ at the fireplace caused it to ignite and he moved over to his bed. He flopped down and passed right out, the effects of the Grog throwing him into the embrace of Morpheus.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry exited the Floo and, to be perfectly honest, he felt much better. A good night sleep, a good English breakfast, and a cup of tea had done surprising wonders after the events of last night. He chuckled slightly as he made his way out of the Three Broomsticks. The Goblins would be arriving by Portkey quite soon.

Harry watched as the two Account Managers arrived, both holding a file at the ready. "Mr. Potter, we're glad you're here. Shall we?" Rotgut asked before he began to lead away.

Harry followed, all bundled up with Dust sitting just inside the jacket so his head could peek out and watch where they were going. It was the only way that Harry was able to convince the crow to come with. He noticed the Goblins had even come dressed for the biting chill.

He chuckled a bit, wondering if the Professors knew he was back in Hogsmeade. Of course, he wasn't going to go up to the school; he was doing business after all.

"The only plot of land that Hogsmeade currently has to offer for a relative steal would be the Shrieking Shack." Rotgut said as he began leading up the hill. "With a total of four bedrooms and two bathrooms, it would make for a simple home that you can entertain your close friends in. While believed to be haunted, we at Gringotts do not believe that to be an issue in this case, yes?" Rotgut asked glancing back.

"It's not an issue." Harry assured.

"For a price of five thousand Galleons, we believe it to be quite the potential piece of property. And, all renovations will be coming out of the main Potter, or Black, accounts depending on the name on the deed." Rotgut said, continuing to walk. At the door to the shack, he drew a key from his suit and opened it.

"Why is it coming out of the Main Account?" Harry asked as he followed the two Goblins inside the building, glancing around. He could already see that it was going to need cleaning and furniture. Everything was torn apart and there was an inch of dust on every surface at the very least.

Harry held his hand up against the wall, splaying his hand out at the look of claw marks. Whatever had done it had been rather big. "There were locks on the outside, yes?" he asked a bit curious.

"Yes, the locks were on the outside. Even the windows are charmed against being broken." Rotgut answered as he began to look around, coming up with ideas and modifications that could be done. "The reason the cost of the refurbishment and upgrades comes out of the main account is that it's less of a personalized spending like an Heir might do, and more of a family investment that will be used by future generations. Realistically, most Heirs don't use their entire trust funds while they have access to them. They use a small portion, the funds get refilled." He found a small passage way and noticed that it looked like it could be locked from the outside as well.

"They were trying to keep something inside." Harry said after a moment. "Something relatively dangerous. There is a sort of dark magical residue still here." He said. It would also explain why nothing had taken shelter.

Ironskull found a cellar door and opened it up before leading down into the chilly cellar. "Mr. Potter, you might wish to come see this!" Ironskull called out.

Harry made his way down the stairs and looked at the large cell that made up the majority of area. Ironskull went up to one of the bars. "Cold iron, naturally resistant to magic." Ironskull said.

Harry nodded, glancing around. He then began to move about the rest of the cellar, examining everything. The whole event took much of the morning and that was even examining the outside to see what they could do for aesthetic qualities. Finally, they were back in the living room once more. Harry glanced to his account managers. "Well?" he asked.

Rotgut had gone down the tunnel a ways before he felt the wards of Hogwarts. "Hmm, I think five thousand might be too generous. We might be able to get them down to three thousand Galleons. There's a secret passage that leads somewhere out onto Hogwarts. It will take a lot of work. But with a good team, you can have this place livable by…" He glanced to Ironskull.

"Summer." Ironskull said. "Though, the Wards won't be in place."

"It's fine." Harry said. "I plan to put some of my own wards up, powerful pieces that are similar to the sort around Hogwarts." After all, it was Rowena Ravenclaw who had come up with the Death Wards he was planning to put around his home.

"Do you wish for us to go ahead and purchase it?" Rotgut asked.

Harry nodded. "Put it in the Potter name." he said. "We'll work out all the details that are needed to be done by our secure postal drops. For now, get someone in here to clean up and repair everything. Throw out the furniture; try to get some more comfortable things. Look towards the mundane side of things for the comfort."

Rotgut took some quick notes down, nodding his head. "When we visit one of the Potter Estates later, we can send over one of the House Elves to start the repairing process."

Harry nodded and glanced around. "Also see about maybe modernizing it a bit. I understand the tradition behind everything, but I wouldn't mind electricity being able to come to my house someway."

Rotgut and Ironskull spoke a moment in the Goblin tongue, seemingly debating something. Rotgut then turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, your mother and father had bought a small home in a suburb of London. It's nothing fancy, but it is equipped with modern amenities that we at Gringotts could study. Everything will be put back in order of course, but we might be ripping things apart to understand the technical components of things. We would only be able to do this with your permission, otherwise adding modern amenities to this shack could take some time. It would also allow us to offer you a discounted service towards future use of the techniques we learn. It won't exactly be electricity the way the Muggles do it, but it will do the same functions."

Harry glanced between the two Goblins. "And you'll be able to use these techniques to bring every one of my homes up to a bit more of a modern standard?" he asked to which he received two nods. "Then do it. I trust the Goblins of Gringotts will make sure to return everything to working order."

"Of course." Rotgut said simply, jotting down notes. A silver pocket watch was opened and checked. "We have some time before the Portkey will go off. I believe some lunch is in order."

Harry nodded and began to move with the Goblins. "Forgive me, but will businesses kick a Goblin out?" He knew the Bigotry towards Goblins was still quite high.

"Not unless they're idiots." Ironskull said with a bit of a rattling cackle. "Goblins always have a wealth of gold, and even if we're begrudging to part with it, we always pay our due. Thievery is not allowed among the Goblins."

Harry nodded slightly, understanding the sentiment. He guessed they would be a fool indeed to deny the Goblins business.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry stumbled slightly as the Portkey deposited him and the two account managers in a strange place. "Where are we?" he asked. They were going over the second House for the day, and he hadn't been told much about it.

In fact, he hadn't been told a damned thing.

Then he felt it. Harry's spine straightened up and he began to walk with a purpose, quickly finding a small shack where he paused outside. His fist tightened up a bit. He could feel the magic around the place. He could feel the dark wards waiting to be tripped.

Rotgut breathed a bit, having been running to keep up with Harry. "Mr. Potter, this is the last remaining property of the Gaunt family. They are the last remaining descendants of Cadmus Peverell. The Gaunt family lives no more. We believe this," he drew a notebook to check his notes. "Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior, to have been Voldemort."

Harry turned his attention to Rotgut at the name of his parents' killer. "Where are you going with this Master Rotgut?" Harry asked.

"By Right of Conquest, you claim the Houses of Tom Marvolo Riddle. This included Slytherin and Gaunt. Now, there is no gold to their name in the very slightest, the Gaunt family squandered it all away. There is a Hogwarts Vault in Gringotts that only the Headmaster or all four Heirs to the Founders can open." Rotgut explained taking a moment and drawing air in deep before letting it out. "In essence, while you have virtually nothing to Slytherin or Gaunt and won't be able to claim a Lordship to either, you could find the other Heirs and take control of Hogwarts as your birthright. Or in your case as your Right of Conquest."

Harry glanced to the dilapidated shack and pointed to it. "So… you managed to find Cadmus Peverell's line, which eventually became the Gaunt family. But they're all dead, including Tom Marvolo Riddle who was Voldemort."

"Yes." Rotgut said succinctly. "According to our records, Merope Gaunt had a child with Tom Riddle the senior. She died shortly after birth of their son."

Harry nodded and turned his attention to the shack. "Inside is an object." Harry said. "But the place is warded with some heavy duty dark magic. The Object is both something of mine, and a Horcrux."

Harry had found the Resurrection Stone, but it seemed the same fool had turned this object into a Horcrux as well. Not only that, but Harry had a hunch who had created all the Horcruxes. It made sense with a name like Voldemort.

Rotgut hissed in his breath as Ironskull finally hobbled up, not having the strength to run like his younger counterpart. "What did I miss?" he rasped.

"There is a Horcrux inside the Gaunt Shack." Rotgut said.

Ironskull growled a bit at that. "I shall return to Gringotts. I'll summon a detail to purge the thing as well as a demolition team. I do not think there is anything we can do for the shack."

Harry shook his head. "Flatten it. But you'll also need some Ward breakers." He said.

Ironskull nodded and removed his pocket watch from his robes. "Glory in Riches." He said and the Portkey swept him up and out of there.

It was less than an hour before more Goblins arrived and set to work. Harry watched as ward after ward was stripped from the Gaunt home, ruthlessly and utterly taken down with the idea of a Horcrux inside. Harry even watched as they began to set to work on ripping the place down, wards in place to cover their tracks and keep the mundane away.

Harry glanced to the cast iron box that a Goblin had brought out. He could feel the powerful compulsion charms on it. He hoped the Goblins knew what they were doing as the Goblin used a Portkey to take the Horcrux away. Even if they had already purged two of the things, Harry was still worried.

It wasn't until Harry returned to Gringotts with both of his Account Managers that the object was returned to him.

He thought back to Dust's words when he received the ring as he walked back to the Leaky Cauldron.

'_As the Pale Rider, you have forfeited the ability to use the Resurrection Stone. On your ring finger, it will act as a Focus for your magic, amplifying it.'_

Harry had tried it out, but he found his magic was… strange. It felt like his Wand wasn't working.

He paused outside of Olivander's and headed inside. The ringing bell sounded and soon the old man was peering out. "Ah, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?" he asked.

Harry passed over the wand, setting it on the counter between them. "I'm not sure what's wrong with my wand. It's… acting strange. Like it's not working. It still fits, but…"

Olivander glanced to the wand and lifted it up, turning it slowly in his fingers. "Ah… I see. You've grown in Magic. Most impressive… most impressive indeed. Most don't need a tuning to their wand, and even those that do are generally much older than you are."

"Tuning?" Harry asked. He had never heard of the concept.

"Yes, wand tuning is a simple process. We simply need to apply something to the wand that will strengthen the dual cores you have inside. Your magic will be stronger because your wand can now handle the full power you have now." Olivander explained as he began to go through the tools he had at his disposal.

"What else does the Tuning do?" he asked.

Olivander laid out several gems on the counter top and set the wand down. "Tuning, Mr. Potter, can be as simple as adding a crystal to the handle of the wand. This crystal will draw in the natural magic you have, a sort of bleed off effect when you carry your wand with you without casting spells. It will then use this magic to tune the cores to a higher alignment with your magic, allowing you to pump more magic through them. Most Witches and Wizards don't need anything past this. But if you have come in for a Tuning at such a young age, then I have a feeling you shall need more. For now, it will do."

Harry briefly wondered if it had to do with reclaiming his artifacts. He had retrieved the Scythe and now the Resurrection Stone. Perhaps that had enhanced his magic. It meant when he retrieved the Gauntlet, the Cloak, the Cowl, and Despair, he might need more tuning done.

He grimaced at the thought.

His fingers began to move over each of the crystal on the desk. Finally, Harry paused on a deep blue crystal. Faintly, he heard the sounds of drums beating and hooves slamming against the ground.

"Ah…" Olivander said, plucking it up. "Tears of a Valkyrie that has failed her Duty and lost the Soul of a fallen Warrior." He said. "You, Mr. Potter, are starting to terrify me. All of these symbols of Death in connection to your wand."

"How do you know it is a real Valkyrie's tears?" Harry asked. Did such things actually exist?

"Meeting a Valkyrie is not hard Mr. Potter." Olivander said as he began to secure the crystalized tears to the handle of Harry's wand. "Making her cry is another story. However, my great-great grandfather collected these tears. My family has been in the wand making business for a very, very long time. We have carefully recorded everything we have found, documented how we found it, and even when it has been used." Olivander set the wand down on the counter.

"Anything of a Valkyrie, from her tears to her hair, is considered either a symbol of death, or a symbol of battle. I believe in your wand's particular case, it is the former. That said you will likely find offensive magic easier to perform."

Harry grimaced at that. "I'm a Fortress Duelist." He said.

Olivander made a small hum with his mouth. "You could make stronger shields, but I do not know. I have never made a wand as… unique as yours. Please come again if it needs more work Mr. Potter. I am expecting great things from you and your wand. Your services today will equal fifteen galleons"

Harry nodded and put his wand away. He then paid out the fifteen Galleons before he headed out.

His magic was growing stronger already and Harry didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Dust's caw made Harry think the crow was right. Only Time would tell.

-End Chapter-

A/N: Okay… so… I was actually planning on including the tour of Potter Manor, or at least parts of it, as well as Christmas in this chapter but… I decided not to. This chapter got pretty long already.


	16. Book 1: Chapter 16

_Last Time: Harry has had a meeting with High King Ragnarokk where he explains why he wishes for Goblin made, and enchanted, Armor. Harry has purchased the Shrieking Shack and has plans for renovations. He has also had the demolition of the Gaunt Shack arranged and the destruction of the Horcrux within. His wand has received the first level of tenement as well, a gem of Valkyrie tears at the end._

Book One: Death

Chapter 16

Christmas, it was the one time of year that Harry never really appreciated. How could he really appreciate it? Every year he had watched as Dudley received heaping mountains of gifts whereas he had, at best, received a pair of Vernon's old socks. Jealousy like that does strange things, especially to a young child. The events had closed and hardened Harry's heart, especially after he obtained Dust.

Perhaps a small part of him was still like a child, desperate to be loved by his relatives. Unfortunately, he was tempered by a cold logic that just would not thaw. If Harry was honest with himself, he could feel that image within the Mirror of Erised slipping away from him. There would be no wife sitting behind him on Despair at this rate. Who would envision themselves marrying Death, especially when he was so cold?

Worse yet, his logic and emotions were constantly at war. Ever since arriving at Hogwarts, inwardly he had been constantly in absolute turmoil. He found himself feeling hypocritical of himself and he wasn't why or how it happened. He understood the logic behind feeling hypocritical but then again, logic and emotions both went hand in hand and warred against one another.

He was repulsed by the disrespect of others, and yet he had climbed a respected institute of Magical Learning. It would be like someone in London climbing to the top of Big Ben. While it may look impressive at the time, in hindsight it begins to look like it was disrespect. It was disrespect towards Hogwarts, something that Harry would not allow himself to commit again. The school had been an institute of Magical Learning long before many other schools had been.

Harry could understand the disrespect towards the Headmaster, and yet at the same time it felt as though he was being a hypocrite. One some form of scale, he was offering the Headmaster the respect Harry felt he deserved, and yet that still felt like just an excuse. But everything about the old man screamed at Harry not to trust him, that Dumbledore would always do what was best for Dumbledore. But Dumbledore had been the 'Leader of the Light' since World War 2. And even before that he had an impressive history.

Sorted to Gryffindor House, Prefect in Fifth year, Head Boy in Seventh year, Valedictorian with holding the highest scores of his year group all seven years running, Dumbledore's achievements in school were nothing to scoff at. Then he went on to hold a tri-mastery in Enchanting, Alchemy, and Transfiguration. His achievements were impressive. It was all a matter of knowing where to look for said achievements. He was also creeping up on holding the office of Headmaster of Hogwarts for the longest length of time.

Perhaps what bothered Harry a lot was how much he was shaping up to be like Dumbledore. He knew that when Fifth year rolled around, Flitwick would strongly consider his name for being a Prefect. He wasn't positive of his status on the scoring, but he was almost certain that he was among the top five. The parallels between Dumbledore and Harry were… frightening to say the least.

They had also both defeated a Dark Lord.

Harry shook the distressing thoughts from himself quite physically. He would do better from then on. He wasn't sure on his stance with Dumbledore, but he would try to be a little more polite to him, and he hadn't climbed the school since that first time, and he scrapped all ideas to do so again.

Perhaps he could do something in the Room of Requirements, a big rock wall or something for him to work with.

Harry put on his slacks and his dress shirt. The wand holster went on first, looking to the blue crystal that was the proof of his tuned wand. Valkyries were credited with the duty of ferrying the souls of dead warriors to Valhalla. It was no surprise that that crystal had called out to him. He then summoned the Harvester to his hand, feeling it wrap around his left arm. The ivory bone color of the multi-tool stood out as a nice contrast of the black sleeve of his shirt. He put the knife along his right forearm, but where his wand was on the inside, the knife was on the outside. It allowed him to draw it with his left hand while also summoning his wand to his right hand.

He drew his black robes around his shoulders and rolled his shoulders a bit. The heating charms sewn into the insides would help keep him warm as he buttoned them up properly. Most robes were worn open in the front, but winter robes tended to be able to be buttoned to help keep the wearer warm. A Ravenclaw colored scarf was wrapped around his neck. He held his right hand out for Dust and helped the crow settled in the robes and under the scarf so that the top of his head rested against Harry's chin.

Dust needed to come with to know where things were after all.

Harry finished buttoning the robes up and shifted his hands to his pockets before stepping towards his door. He locked it behind him and headed down to the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom was wiping up the counter a bit, with breakfast cooking behind him.

Tom looked surprised as he glanced up. "Are ya leavin' Lad?" He asked. "On Christmas day?" he asked.

Harry chuckled slightly. "I have business with the Goblins until I return back to Hogwarts I'm afraid. We could have handled it during the summer months, but I tend to like to get business done as quickly as possible. It's looking like my summer is shaping up to be just as busy as it is." Harry was almost passed Tom. "Besides, you should know the Goblins, Tom. They don't celebrate Christmas. To them it's just another slow day."

Harry then headed back towards the wall and his wand flicked out, tapping the bricks quickly enough. He liked Tom the Barkeep. He was a simple soul. There was no hidden agenda to him. He'd likely be quick to give up the chance to make a few Galleons if it meant helping someone.

Harry glanced around Diagon Alley in a bit of amazement as he began to walk towards Gringotts. Every time he had been there it had been bustling with activity. Now it was devoid of life, shops closed up and lamps darkened. It was interesting to see how Christmas affected businesses like this. To Harry, Christmas was shaping up to be just another day of the year. Yet the Shops were all closed. Even a glance down Knockturn Alley showed it to be quite empty and darker than usual.

Harry entered Gringotts to see his two Account Managers already waiting for him. "Master Rotgut, Master Ironskull." He said politely as he moved closer to the two.

"Mr. Potter." Rotgut said and handed over a box. "Inside that box holds the Potter Signet ring for the heir. It will only accept a Potter's finger."

Harry accepted the box and opened it. A simple silver ring with a ruby on it sat inside. He took the ring out and tucked the box into his robes. He noticed an inscription inside but he put the ring on, feeling the overly large ring sizing itself to his finger. "What would have happened had I not been a Potter?" he asked.

"It would have shrunk until your finger snapped off." Rotgut said. "There are a few benefits to the ring. It can act as an emergency Portkey to Potter Manor; it will ward off minor hexes, curses, and jinxes. It will even warm slightly in the presence of a harmful substance keyed into the ring. There is a tome inside the Potter Manor that will allow you to update the definition of said Harmful substances. It's quite the work of enchanting art behind that ring."

Harry nodded, looking to the ring a bit more. "I take it there is a similar ring for the Black Family?" he asked Ironskull.

The aged Goblin nodded. "I'll give that over to you when we go to the Black Ancestral Home." He said.

Harry nodded and then looked between the two Account Managers. "Whenever you're ready." He said, offering his hand.

Rotgut placed his pocket watch in Harry's hand, holding the chain. Ironskull placed his fingers on top of the watch, making sure to touch the Portkey. Rotgut then said something in Latin that Harry couldn't understand in the slightest before he felt the now familiar yank behind his naval.

Harry found himself landing on a road leading up to an impressive looking gate. He didn't see a manor anywhere, though he saw plenty of trees. Briefly, he wondered where exactly in Britain they were at. Still, he began to follow Rotgut up towards that gate. He wondered where exactly Potter Manor was too. He didn't see anything beyond that gate.

Rotgut held up a key and offered it to Harry. "This will unlock the gate, thus removing the stasis charms placed upon the Manor. Stasis charms lock it in a sort of pocket dimension that will keep looters out."

Harry accepted the key and went up to the gate. Just under the mouth of the Griffin there was a slot. He put the key in and turned, hearing the clicking of the lock. He also felt a rush of magic flow over him and the feel of wards coming up.

Harry glanced up in awe and wonder at the sight of Potter Manor. It was three stories in height and quite large in length wise. Harry watched the gate open and he stepped through. High hedges lined the path, covered in snow but neatly trimmed.

About halfway up to the path were two stone statues flanking the path. It was a pair of riders sitting atop Griffins, a halberd in their hands. When Harry made his way between them, those halberds flashed down, blocking his and the Goblin's path. He could even see where the Stone had been fused to metal, allowing for a sharp and gleaming edge to the halberd. He heard grinding stone and glanced up, seeing the two statues looking to him.

Harry stood straighter and held his head up. "I am the Potter Heir and I demand you stand down." He said firmly. He was not going to be attacked by what were undoubtedly just one set of the defenses of his home.

Harry could feel himself being weighed and measured by the guards. He would be attacked if he wasn't the Potter heir. He could see the Griffins had metal talons and teeth as well, enhancing their lethality. Stone was good and all, but it seemed the Potters wanted to make sure whoever attacked them wouldn't be walking away without scratches.

Finally, the guardian statues went back to their silent vigil, staring down the pathway. Their halberds rose up once more into a ready position.

Harry continued down the path. He could feel excitement bubbling up inside of him. He was in the manor were generations of Potters were raised. He could even feel the powerful magic surrounding the area. It prickled along his skin, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise up.

He paused at the set of double doors made of heavy ebony wood. The Griffin symbol, something he was coming to equate with the Potter family, was once more on the door. Harry glanced to the key in his hand before he saw Rotgut handing him a bronze key.

He accepted the key and used that one instead on the door, feeling it click. The excitement bubbled up more inside of him and he found himself smiling like a loon as he strode into the foyer of his home. Ivory granite covered the floor, with tall pillars done in crimson going up to the roof. A spiral staircase made from marble made its way up to the second floor.

But it was the Coat of Arms that drew Harry's gaze. Displayed dominantly on a red wall the Coat of Arms was impressive to say the least. It was a shield, flanked by twin Griffins facing away from it. Twin swords crossed behind the shield with a wand jutting down between them. A large 'P' stood upon the face of the shield with a Latin phrase underneath it.

"What does the phrase mean?" Harry asked Rotgut. He couldn't read Latin yet. It was something he would change in the near future.

"The Last Enemy that shall be Destroyed is Death." Rotgut said respectfully beside Harry. "It has been the Potter Motto for centuries. They have never once feared the cold embrace of the afterlife, but nor had they sought it. They went to it with their arms open, embracing it when it was their time."

Harry moved up towards the Coat of Arms and lightly ran his fingers along the inscription. He was home. He was finally home where he belonged. He felt something stirring inside of him and he felt wetness on his cheeks. He realized he was crying after a moment, but he couldn't seem to find himself to care.

Dust's caw broke him out of his revelry and he glanced down slightly, shaking his head.

Harry took a moment to wipe his face from the tears and bowed his head a bit. He turned on his heel to face both Rotgut and Ironskull. "I believe a tour is in order."

"Millie would be the Head House Elf." Rotgut said. "I would call upon her to start the tour."

Harry nodded and took a breath. "Millie!" he called out.

Pop. Harry glanced down to see a female elf with wide blue eyes watering up. "Master Harry!" she cried out, clinging to his legs. "We's thinkings you nevers shows." She wore what looked like a nice powder blue dress.

Harry blinked a bit, trying to understand a little bit. "Millie," That was going to get confusing with Millicent having that nickname. "I'm home now. I might be making some renovations through the Goblins, but for now I need to know what's what. I need a tour."

Millie nodded and grabbed his hand with the Potter Heir ring on it. He felt a spark of magic between them, undoubted the House Elf bonding and accepting him as her proper master. She then began to lead the way, speaking. "I's handles the cookings. I's cooks your meals, I's cooks your guests meals. I's Heads elf, beens that ways since Mistress Lily. Puck handles cleanings of the House withs Tripsy."

Harry was led through a sitting room where the two elves in question bowed to him. Harry was impressed with what he was seeing of the Potter home. It would need some modern amenities that frankly he was planning on all of his homes to have. He saw the rather spotless kitchens and figured that Millie would enjoy some appliances to help with her cooking.

He was also certain she'd enjoy being able to store food in a refrigerator to make things a little easier for her.

"Twilly handles the greenhouses. You has four greenhouses Master Harry." Millie said, continuing to lead him through, eventually to the back where he saw the greenhouses for himself. "One for fruits, one for vegetables, one for potions, one to rest. Twilly rotates them every harvest."

Harry saw the House elf in question and raised a brow slightly. Its appearance was different than what he had expected. First it was tanned to a deep earthen brown and it was carrying a stick with a single leave sticking out of the top. A pair of shorts told Harry that the greenhouses were climate controlled.

Harry was led away by Millie again, smiling a bit as the elf continued to speak, sometimes talking about the rooms and how it wanted to throw a formal ball in the ball room that Puck and Tripsy would be in charge of cleaning up. Harry caught a glimpse into it and knew that it was going to be quite the party if he let his house elves throw it.

"Hermy watches the birdies for you Master Harry." Harry glanced to the 'birds' that the House Elf was talking about. In a paddock that had plenty of space for them to rest and relax, not having to worry about the cold of the winter were four Griffins. Somehow, Harry wasn't surprised his family had them.

Harry continued following Millie, listening as she spoke. She said there was a grand total of fifteen spare bedrooms outside the master bedroom, ten full and four half bathrooms outside the master bedroom, and three kitchens. There was a library, a vault, the ballroom, a laboratory, an armory, two sitting rooms, a formal dining room, an informal dining room, and a parlor to entertain guests in. All in all, Potter manor hit a whopping three hundred and sixty two thousand square feet. It also sat in the middle of fifty acres of land, making certain that Harry had no neighbors for quite some distance.

It was also the biggest of all of his properties by a significant margin.

Rotgut explained at the end of the tour that it was going to cost Harry quite the sum to modernize Potter Manor. Still, Harry gave the order for it to be done. He also knew that it would be done before the summer holidays hit.

Eventually however, Harry saw the two Goblins off. He would be staying inside Potter Manor that night. He would Floo to the Leaky Cauldron in the morning when it was time to meet with the two Goblins again for the next set of properties before he went to spend an hour with the Abbot and the Bones families.

When they were gone, Harry turned and began to walk through his home once more, eventually making his way down to the massive vault that the Potter Family used to store their riches and other things before Gringotts was founded.

In his awe over his Family's home, Harry found himself missing the obvious sensation. That was until Dust had reminded him about it. Harry glanced to the crow sitting on his shoulder, nodding slightly. He unlocked the vault and watched the doors begin to swing open, revealing a cache of just about everything the Potter family would need.

Old wands, fabrics, trophies, money, books, there were even a few caskets down there. But Harry found himself stepping past all of that, heading instead for the one object that was stashed away behind a glass case with a big parchment of warning before it, trying to warn away those that it did not belong to.

Harry removed his robes and set it to the side before he rolled the sleeve of his dress shirt up. He removed the Harvester and set it against the wall, looking to the glass case as he undid the latches, opening it quite effortlessly.

Inside was the Gauntlet.

The Dominion Gauntlet was quite the powerful item for the Pale Rider. It would allow Death the capabilities of controlling those associated with Death such as Dementors, Lethifolds, Vampires, Ghouls, Zombies, Inferi. In fact, using the Gauntlet, Harry could summon up a legion of the creatures, all ready to fight.

The Dominion Gauntlet also allowed for him to destroy Dementors on a whim and even create them using a very complex ritual. The Gauntlet was one very impressive piece of magic.

Briefly, Harry wondered why such a magical artifact that would be so dangerous to anyone but the Pale Rider was locked so effortlessly. Surely his ancestor that had found it would have put better protections upon it. Even still, Harry soon looked at the silver gauntlet.

It had grooves and a depression wrapping around it and ending on the hand where the Harvester was meant to go. Harry lightly ran his fingertips along those grooves, sigh softly in delight. Another artifact reclaimed, he just had two more and Despair.

Finding the others would in fact be easier. The more artifacts he found, the better capable of sensing the rest of the artifacts he became. Even now, he was getting a ping in two different directions from the rest of the artifacts. Granted, the Invisibility Cloak could not be found that way, but Dust kept reassuring him that it would come to him.

Harry lifted the Dominion Gauntlet up and rotated it around in his hand a bit. There were no latches to it, no straps, nothing to risk it coming off mid-battle. Briefly he worried that it would be too big to fit properly along his arm.

Finally, he slipped it onto his hand and he felt the metal begin to shrink down along his arm and hand until it was a nice and snug fit. He felt the surge of power along his left arm and the feeling settle in his stomach. He checked his hand's mobility in the gauntlet and found it to have its full range of motion still.

"Argh!" Harry cried out as what felt like a dozen needles slammed into his forearm, piercing all the way to the bones of his arm. He grabbed at the gauntlet, trying to do something to pry it off but it also felt like he was forcing the needles to pull in his arm.

Finally, he watched as black spots along the gauntlet fill with blood, changing from a void-like black to the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood. There didn't seem to be any logic to the markings either, but it gave the appearance of the gauntlet being scaled. It wasn't until every single one of those scales was full that Harry felt the needles recede.

He pulled at the gauntlet and felt it enlarge and go limp as he quickly threw it off of his hand. It clattered in its case while Harry looked over his arm. Amazingly however, his arm was completely fine. Not a single marking on it.

Dust's caw reverberated in Harry and he glanced back to the gauntlet. "The Gauntlet can act as a substitute sacrifice for when I can't procure one…" he said thoughtfully, lifting it back up. Once for each of the scales, and there were fifteen scales along the Gauntlet.

It wouldn't refill until the next Pale Rider offered their blood. It was for emergencies only.

Harry slid it back on and felt it resize on his arm. He opened his hand to grab the Harvester but found that it came to his hand without him even summoning it. He was quite surprised. He then watched as his skeletal weapon wrapped itself neatly in the grooves of the Dominion Gauntlet, resting itself on the back of his hand. Then the Harvester took on a strange silver hue with its empty eyes turning green like emeralds.

It looked to be part of the gauntlet now.

Harry turned away and gently shut the glass case. He then began to head upstairs, out of the Vault since he no longer needed to be in it.

"Master Harry, mails heres!" Millie called out.

Harry looked a bit surprised at that and came up a little faster towards the informal dining room where he had planned to take his lunch that Millie was cooking. He was surprised to see the table having quite a number of parcels on them. "Mille what are these?" he asked, moving towards the table. The wards wouldn't have allowed anything harmful past.

"I's thinkings theys presents." Millie said. "Master Harry has lotsa friends?"

"Millie, you and the other House Elves didn't need to get me anything, you know that right?" Harry asked. Who else would have gotten him presents for Christmas?

Millie's ears drooped and her head looked down. "We's not thinkings you comes this year Master Harry. We's bad elves, we's not gets our Master anythings."

Harry lightly placed his hand on Millie's head. "It's okay Millie." He said softly. "Like you said, you and the others didn't know I was coming. You had no way of knowing. I'll set you and the other elves up with a bit of a stipend so you can have spending money to buy things you want to buy." Harry said.

Millie's eyes went wide at this as she looked up. She hugged him tightly around his thighs. "Master Harry is too kind!" she cried out, almost wailing really.

Harry didn't even mind the elf hugging his legs as he moved over towards the table that had the presents. This… presented a dilemma. He had not in all honesty anticipated any presents that year. And generally speaking, it was polite to send a present in return when getting one. Yet, he hadn't been shopping in the slightest for presents and he hadn't planned any time to go shopping for presents.

He went over to them and began to open them slowly and carefully, taking his time. The first thing he got was from Hermione of all people. He couldn't help but chuckle at the gift. It was simple, and more of a joke, but it was thoughtful. He picked up the Halloween costume piece. A skull mask, to go with his Grim Reaper costume from the past Halloween.

He found himself opening the next one. It was a knitted sweater of dark blue with a bronze letter 'H' on the front. It also had a tin of sweets that he set aside. There was also a coupon to Zonko's Joke shop, and a small Wizard's chess set. Gifts from the Weasley family.

The next package was from Hagrid, a book on the care of Thestrals with hand written anecdotes that gave extra tips. Of course, it looked like Hagrid got someone to write for him. But there was also a photo album of his parents, waving to him. Harry felt his eyes starting to mist up.

The next item was from Millicent. She had gotten him a book on Illusions from her family's personal library. It was a very touching gift, and she hoped to compare notes when they got back to Hogwarts.

Next was from Flitwick, hand written parchments and vials of memories of Flitwick's experience against Fortress Duelists. There was also a book on the style of a Fortress Duelist, written by a renowned champion. A set of dragon hide dueling gloves finished it up.

Susan's letter said she'd give her gift to him the next day when he went to visit for Boxing Day, something that was perfectly fine by him.

Harry's eyes filled with tears as he finally sat down. He had never experienced this sort of friendship before and it was completely alien to him. He breathed a bit heavily, not sure where all this was coming from. But Harry felt something harden inside of him, a set course that he would do no matter what. It wasn't just to be polite, but Harry was going to get a gift for everyone who had gotten something for him. They were his friends.

It hit him like a ton of bricks to the stomach.

That was why Flitwick wanted Harry to start using people's first names. He wanted him to make friends and to warm up to them. They were his friends because they cared for him and he wanted to see them happy.

Harry glanced to his wand, trying to figure out how the diminutive professor intended to incorporate it into Dueling. Why? Why was making friends important to dueling? A brief flash of an image in his mind and he had his answer. He felt pure, undiluted rage filling up inside of him. His eyes sparked and his hand turned to bone almost instantly as a cold air filled around him. He could feel the Harvester rattling on his left hand, wanting to be used to rip and tear.

Dust's caw and Millie's panicked cries got him to calm himself down though. He clenched his hand so tight he started to bleed from his palm.

Woe to anyone that hurt any of the people he considered friends. A simple image of Millicent being bullied had Harry's rage higher than he had ever had it before. And the sensation was new to him. The sensation of friendship was new, and he would fight to protect it. He would fight to keep it safe.

He might even kill to keep it safe.

Harry glanced to the last package on the table and pulled the parcel over to him. The note on it was unsigned and Harry didn't recognize the hand writing. '_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time to return it. Use it well.'_

He opened it up and felt his heart beginning to race. He ran his hand over the silvery substance in the package with his eyes wide. He swept it out and looked to it. The invisibility cloak had returned to him at last.

He swept it around his shoulders effortlessly, letting it flutter over his form. He felt the rush of power and energy flow through him, the cloak once more recognizing that it was with Death. With its original master once more, the cloak changed from being simply an Invisibility cloak.

Harry watched as the cloak turned to an inky black color and he moved over to the wall, pressing against it and finding the cloak changing to match the wall. He stepped from the wall and it turned to the inky black once more. He pulsed his magic into it and it turned invisible, completely hiding Harry once more. The cloak was so much more than it used to be, so much more than it was in a normal Wizard's hands.

Another pulse of magic and it returned to the normal color. Harry summoned his Deathly Aura and watched as mist began to billow out from around him and the cloak. He began to walk; purposefully using heavy footfalls, yet the cloak muffled them and made his footsteps silent like the grave.

Harry couldn't help it as he stopped using the cloak. He began to laugh loudly. He didn't care how the Owls had gotten to him. But this had been his best Christmas ever.

He was home once more!

A second thought almost had Harry cursing though as he glanced to his wand. Would it still be strong enough to contain his magic after the increases from the Gauntlet and the cloak?

-End Chapter-

A/N: Holy crap, I had not anticipated this chapter being so long with just Christmas. I was expecting to have to throw in Boxing Day at the very least.

Ah well, just means I have more to work with for the next chapter.

Peace!


	17. Book 1: Chapter 17

_Last Time: Harry has toured Potter Manor, and found the Dominion Gauntlet within the lower vault. He receives Christmas Presents for the first time, a shocking event for the usually stoic Potter Heir. The Invisibility Cloak has also returned to Death._

Book One: Death

Chapter 17

Harry dressed himself in a bit of casual clothes, which admittedly wasn't all that casual. A pair of slacks and a long sleeved sweater was not necessarily casual, but they were as casual as he got. He tried to tame his crow's nest of hair a bit, but knew it was a lost cause.

He double checked everything. While he wasn't taking his Death Artifacts, aside from the Resurrection Stone inlaid on the Peverell ring, he still was taking his wand and his knife with him. He never knew when it would be needed after all and it had helped a bit with the troll.

He thought about that and shook his head. Not something he really wanted to think about really, there had been a lot of luck involved in the troll as well. Had it not been so irritable, it would have likely gone into a corridor and then they would definitely have a problem.

"Dust." Harry called for his familiar and felt the crow land on his shoulder. He then headed down to the Leaky Cauldron proper. He passed Tom a few Galleons for use of the Floo. While not required, it was polite to do so according to some of the other patrons. Floo Powder wasn't necessarily expensive, but he was using some to leave anyways.

He took a pinch and tossed it into the fire, watching them blaze emerald green. "The Ossuary!" he called as he stepped through. It was a quick slide and a hop before he was out in the Bones Ancestral home.

Harry came out of the grate and immediately paused, taking a glance around him. He looked to the dark hardwood floors he was standing on and noticed the entire house seemed to be done in them, at least as far as he could tell. It gave the home a more homely feeling to it really. He made a mental note to talk to Rotgut and Ironskull about it; perhaps in a few of the homes they could do wooden floors.

A crack announced the arrival of a House Elf. He bowed slightly. "Sir, the Mistress has been expecting you." Harry was surprised at the articulation of the House Elf. It was rather interesting.

But Harry didn't budge. "And how do you know who I am?" Harry asked staring to the House Elf in a butler suit.

"The Mistress' other guests have arrived, I can see your Heir ring, the Mistress is not expecting any other visitors, and I can feel my sister Mille's energy around you, meaning you have been to Potter Manor. Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity Master Potter?" The House elf asked.

"You must be Edmund." Harry said. Millie spoke highly of her younger brother who served a different family. It was not uncommon for younger elf siblings to serve different families. It kept the lines from inter-breeding, keeping the Elf Magic strong.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master Potter. Now, just a moment while I clear the ash from your clothes." Edmund summoned some of his elf magic, literally vanishing the ash from Harry's clothes and the floor where Harry had come out. "It would not due to trail ash all over the Mistress' home." Once Edmund had finished he nodded. "Right then, follow me please." Edmund turned and began to walk away.

Harry followed behind him. "How do Elves get their names?" he asked after a moment.

"Generally, the House Elves' sire and dame give them their names, at least for the first born. Later Elf children, if they are passed on to a different family are given a name by the family. The Mistress' late father gave me the name of Edmund. It had been the name of one of his dearest friends." Edmund said.

"Susan's father or her grandfather?" Harry asked. He wasn't exactly sure who the Elf would consider as the Mistress of the home.

"Susan's grandfather." Edmund said as he led Harry up the stairs.

Harry got a good look around, trying to look at everything. True to their last name, much of the Bones' family home looked quite like bones. Though whether that was magic in play or actual bones was debatable. It almost looked like a dark family's home, not that he would judge of course. It was still a magnificent home, as magnificent as the Potter Manor was.

Edmund paused in his steps and Harry paused as well, watching as two elves hustled by with a large table. They then continued on, letting Harry take a look around more. The home was definitely opulent. But at the same time, Harry could see the humbleness to it. There wasn't expensive forms of art hanging all around, plants sat in many of the corners, obviously for decoration.

There was no marble like in the Potter Manor, except for the pillars in the main entry way and, as Edmund told Harry as they walked, in the formal Ball room. It was all wood, polished to a nice shine. Edmund explained that there was a House Elf whose sole job was to polish all the wood in the house, a very long process that could not be broken up among other elves that had other jobs.

It seemed Edmund ran as tight of a ship as Millie did. It was almost scary how much of Millie he saw in Edmund. Briefly he wondered what their parents had been like to have this sort of efficiency. Or was it trained?

Edmund opened a set of large double doors that were made of a fine crafted wood. "Presenting the Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter." He called out.

"Harry!" The boy in question saw Susan stand up and move over.

"Edmund, I've told you, you don't have to announce people in an informal setting like that." Amelia said coming over.

"It must have slipped my mind Mistress Amelia." Edmund said with a bow.

Harry saw the slight quirk of the lips on Amelia's lips that said she knew Edmund did not forget that fact. It was quite interesting to see the byplay between the family and the House Elf. Amelia then turned to face Harry a bit more properly. "Welcome to the Bones Ancestral Home Mr. Potter. Susan's told me quite a bit about you."

Harry glanced to the redhead Hufflepuff in question, arching his brow slightly, noticing the dusting of her cheeks. He then focused once more on Amelia's amused eyes. "All good things I hope. I'd hate to think I somehow got in some form of trouble."

"She says you're rather impressive with your magic, performing most spells on the first try." Amelia said, glancing to Susan for a moment. "Is that true?" she asked.

Harry inclined his head. "I take a moment to think about the spell before performing them. Though I am sure that Professor Shacklebolt might have mentioned it a few times as well," Harry said glancing over to the Auror that was sitting on the couch. "You are, after all, still his boss even if he's on loan to Hogwarts."

Amelia glanced over to Kingsley before offering a slight nod. "He says that you'd make a good Auror. Interested?"

"Not in the slightest." Harry said shaking his head with a chuckle. "I'm doing enough paperwork dragging my family business back up to new glories. Being an Auror is undoubtedly filled with paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork with the occasional criminal thrown in the mix." Harry said. "Aside from that, I have more interest in Politics and a touch of Dueling."

The clunk of wood hitting against wood sounded and Harry turned slightly to give his full attention to the individual. It was a grizzled man, with a part of his nose missing and an electric blue false eye that spun around. "Think you can duel then?" he asked with a slight smirk.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Professor Flitwick has been teaching me a few things." Harry knew he was in the presence of Master Auror Alastor Moody. And while he had been able to learn a few things about individuals, there was not much he was able to learn about Moody, a man he had looked up when he had been collecting information on Dumbledore.

"Do you have your wand with you?" Moody asked. Harry could feel a bit of anticipation coming from the others in the room.

Harry flicked his hand up, his wand extending effortlessly from the holster so the tip was pointed between Moody's eyes. "It never leaves my presence by my own volition." He said.

Moody gave a vicious looking smirk. "I think we best take this outside."

"Won't I get in trouble for using magic outside of school?" Harry asked, turning to face Amelia slightly.

"Not in the slightest." Moody said. "The Wards around older family's homes keep the Ministry from managing to determine who is casting. It's up to the parents to enforce it."

"You do realize I'm head of the DMLE, right Moody?" Amelia said crossing her arms. "And that Kingsley is here as well."

"Then may I duel him?" Harry asked, flicking his wand away into its holster. "We'll take it outside of course. I don't expect to win, but it would be nice to see where I stand." He was going to be facing worse things than Alastor Moody eventually. Namely one Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Both Susan and Hannah looked to Amelia, desperately wanting to see it. Harry had, to most of Hogwarts, become something of an enigma. Always excelling at magic and always seemingly disappearing after classes. While he had gotten friendly with many people, he was still shrouded in a lot of mystery making it difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was about him that seemed to make people wanted to try and figure him out.

Amelia glanced to the green eyes of Harry before flicking her eyes up to look at Moody. She then turned on Susan. "No magic here during the breaks, like we've discussed before. I'm your legal guardian and while you could perform it, I'm enforcing the no magic during breaks. Hannah, the same to you while you're here at my house. I can't enforce it while you're at your home, but while here you are not to perform magic." Amelia then focused her gaze on Harry. "Just this once. After that, if you perform magic at my home, I will report it. Am I understood?" she asked

"Understood Madam Bones." Harry said simply. He was practically trembling with excitement at the idea he was about to face off against Moody. Flitwick was building him up, yes, but he also knew he needed a good slice of humble pie from time to time. It would give him something to strive for, something to make him succeed even more.

Both men moved outside, Amelia directing them. Harry could see everyone was interested in seeing it. No doubt many of them remembered Flitwick from when he had taught them. If he had taken a special interest in someone, no doubt there was something special to be seen.

Harry embraced the cold as they moved a ways away from the house. It was still within the wards, Harry was certain. He allowed Dust to fly up and begin to circle around overhead. Harry slowly began to seep up his Aura, embracing the cold and letting it fill through him. He felt the Peverell ring pulse slightly as he stepped back slightly. He flicked his hand, his wand coming out to rest in a firm but flexible grip.

Moody had limped his way to a good starting point. They were only ten feet away from one another, dangerous ground against someone like Moody. Flitwick had told Harry a little bit of each example of Duelist, giving a bit of pros and cons and an example of a person that was that type of Duelist.

Moody was what was simply known as a Quick-draw Duelist. He was wickedly fast at casting and uncannily accurate with his spells. The biggest downside to a Quick-draw was they tended to give up power to cast faster and they had to work on the accuracy part. Moody also was quite capable of rapidly throwing chains. Not quite a Spell Weaver, but definitely a bad match up for a Fortress. Moody also had gotten his spells to be strong, even with his casting through years of practice.

"I'm not going to go easy on you Potter. I won't kill you, but I won't go easy either." Moody said before suddenly lashing out with a _Reducto_. The silently cast, point and fire spell was quite the surprise for Harry.

He had expected them to respect the etiquette of dueling.

Harry dove to the side into the snow, his wand flashing up. "_Protego." _He said as the next two _Reducto_ spells slammed into his cast shield. He got himself back on his feet quickly enough, a _Bombarda_ slamming into the ground where he had been.

Harry ignored the debris as he began to move, slipping from left and right. His Aura was as high as it would go without him starting to turn skeletal. He didn't want to alert anyone after all about who he was. Harry rolled out of the way out of some more spell work. Harry wasn't sure what they were until they hit with Moody, but the grizzled Auror seemed to have no problem using some heavy duty fighting.

Harry raised a wall of thick ice, letting it take two _Reducto _spells for him_. _Harry spun around from the wall and lashed his hand out, launching a lance of ice at Moody, forcing the Master Auror to dodge. The lance simply had too much mass and momentum to simply shield again. Harry took the moment that Moody was on the ground to attempt to advance.

His knife flicked out of its sheath and into his left hand. Moody however rolled with his dodge, throwing cursed Harry's way with surprising swiftness, forcing Harry to back off. "Dust!" he roared out and watched the circling crow speed down, forming into a black arrow once more to try and spear Moody.

Moody managed to get up onto his feet and get out of the way once more before he began to throw more at Harry. Everything was done silently and when he could without wand motions. Harry was forced to throw up more shields, both magical and physical.

Harry advanced though, pushing ahead as he could. Moody didn't like moving too much, his leg not allowing it. Harry eventually made it within striking distance of Moody and his knife slashed out, aiming to take out Moody's other leg.

Unfortunately, Moody caught the knife with his other hand, clasping a strong grip on Harry's wrist before his wand came up. Harry felt himself caught in the chest with a spell, he had been trying to get his wand over to Moody, but the fact of the matter was simple. He hadn't been fast enough.

Harry was blasted through the air and hit the ground hard, darkness overtaking him.

Harry came to a while later, giving a soft groan. His chest and back felt tight as he sat up.

"Harry, you're awake!" Spoke the rich and deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Harry shook his head slightly, trying to clear it up a bit. "Yeah." He said softly and moved himself so he was sitting on the couch instead of laying on it. "What happened?" he asked.

"You lost." Moody said from an opposite couch.

"Move!" Harry glanced up to see Kingsley being shooed away by Hannah's mother. She squatted down slightly and began to wave her wand before Harry. "I'm Healer Cassandra Abbot. How do you feel Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"My chest feels tight, same with my back." Harry said, not going to refuse a trained healer glancing him over.

"Both points of impact. Mad-Eye's spell hit you rather hard." She said and paused, waving her hand over a certain part of his side. She frowned slightly, glancing up to Harry's green eyes. "Mr. Potter, I'm getting unusual readings from your left side." She said.

Harry debated for a moment, not sure what the readings were. "It was an accident. I'll be fine, I promise." Harry said.

It was obviously Hannah's mother did not like that explanation one bit. "I should be ordering you to Saint Mungo's." she said.

Harry glanced around briefly. He didn't trust any of the people in the room, not enough for them to know he had slit himself open. He decided to give a hint of truth. "I already had a Phoenix cry in and on the wound. I'm fine." Harry reiterated.

"Wound?" Amelia asked, moving forward. "Have you been attacked Mr. Potter?" she was in a professional role. "Why didn't Dumbledore report it?"

Harry unbuttoned his shirt and opened it to the left slightly, showing the rough scar from his unsuccessful operation. He looked to Amelia's eyes, his Occlumency shields locked down as tight as he could manage. "Because Dumbledore doesn't know. Madam Pomfrey doesn't know, and I'd like to keep it that way." Harry buttoned his shirt back up and stood up. "I also don't want to be interrogated on it. Simply put, it was a training accident that went wrong and I haven't tried it again."

"I can perform a simple charm to remove most of the scar tissue, but I will have to remake the incision." Cassandra said as she backed up slightly.

"No, I'd rather keep the scar, thank you. It reminds me of my own failings and keeps me grounded." Harry said politely.

"Ah, leave the boy alone." Moody said. "He learns by doing, and a scar is a good reminder of messing something up." Moody said as he took a hit from his hip flask. "But can you tell me what you did wrong in our Duel?" he asked.

Harry nodded slightly. "I underestimated you. I hadn't expected you to stop the knife like that. I knew you could pull your wand faster than I could, but I hadn't expected you stopping my hand."

"Constant Vigilance!" Moody roared out making several people jump. "You let your focus lapse for even a few seconds and you land on your arse."

"Alastor!" Amelia barked at her friend and mentor. "There are children here; there is no need for crude language."

Moody didn't look the least bit contrite. "It's a good thing you're learning Elemental Spells Potter. Keep working on them and you might actually impress me some day." Moody said.

Harry said nothing on the matter. He hadn't learned Elemental Spells. It was his Aura that allowed him to use the Ice after all. The Elemental Spells he had been working on he hadn't felt comfortable enough to use in a duel either.

Thankfully, before the silence could get awkward, Susan spoke up. "Harry, Hannah, why don't you come with me and I'll get you your presents?" she asked standing up.

Harry nodded softly and paused a moment, double checking for his wand and his knife. It should have been the first thing that he did when he woke up, but he had been interrogated when he did wake up. He felt Dust flap over to his shoulder and settle there for a moment with a slight caw.

Harry then stepped behind Susan, heading out of the room. Though, he did notice Hannah begin to follow them as well. Harry began to take in the décor a bit more, noticing portraits of various members of the Bones family going back a few centuries even. It was most impressive.

They came to Susan's room, marked by a small plaque on the door. Harry noticed it had the black and yellow colors of House Hufflepuff, complete with various images of a badge, but it also had other things. Susan's room was clean, spotless even, but it still had a lived in feel to it. The furniture was done in warm colored wood, all hand crafted by the looks of it. Hannah flopped down onto Susan's bed; the queen sized four poster bed a great deal bigger than the beds of the Ravenclaw dorms at the very least.

Harry's attention was drawn to a small table where pictures littered it, some waving up to him, some focused only on the occupants of the pictures. Harry picked one up. Susan's mother had the same red hair of Susan and Amelia, though he noticed hers was drawn back into a fancy bun with what looked like oriental hair sticks in her hair. She also had warm brown eyes. Susan's father had messy sandy blonde hair with vibrant blue eyes. Susan was even in the picture, a young girl sitting on her father's shoulders.

"My parents." Susan said from just behind him. "Death Eater sympathizers got them when I was six." She said. Her voice was detached, trying not to feel the pain to it. "Auntie Amelia caught them… but the damage had already been done."

Susan took the picture carefully. "My dad caught those hair sticks for my mom on a business trip to Japan. She loved them dearly. She had said she was going to give them to me when I got my Hogwarts letter, something to keep her close when I was at Hogwarts. The Death Eaters even took that from me. I have other things to remember her by, but I can't stop thinking about all the evenings when she'd brush my hair and pin it up with those hair sticks. I loved them." Susan whispered.

Harry gently took the picture from Susan and he focused on the jade colored hair sticks. They were about eight inches in length, plenty for a lot of hair. They were jade along the shaft, but there was also a black band of onyx around the top that held an intricate decorative piece of emerald. He set the picture back down slowly.

Closing his eyes, he held out his hand. His magic was wild and powerful. He would have to fight it for control, to keep it from lashing out. His Aura flared up, causing the area around him to get cold. The water in the air condensed around his hand, slowly extending into a pair of spikes made of ice that resembled the hair pins.

That was the easy part. Manipulating and shaping the water was something he could do in his sleep at this point. But he couldn't fail in this endeavor. He couldn't afford to.

Harry found his magical core. In his mind he could see a violent and malevolent storm of powerful green and black energy. He directed it to the hair sticks, setting down parameters. There were no wand movements or incantation to cast; it was all about intent and having the magical energy to do so. So he set down the parameters.

Thankfully it was all rock. Rock was easy to conjure, including precious gems. The long spikes were a mold, hollow and allowing it to be filled with the jade stone as he conjured it. Next was the band of onyx. He kept telling his magic to follow the mold, to not extend past the ice. He was completely focused on his task as he also began to form.

Harry opened his eyes and allowed the ice to fall apart, showing a pair of hair sticks quite similar to what Susan's mother had worn. "Here." He offered to the redhead. "I've never given a Christmas present before, never received them before this year so I don't know much about the etiquette behind it. But… But if my talents can give you at least a semblance of happiness, I'm willing to use them." Harry said. He then felt his nose begin to bleed and the world spun slightly. He lightly cupped his left hand under his nose. "Bathroom?" He followed Susan's hand pointing to the bathroom, not looking to her face.

Susan came in a moment later as Harry was letting his nose just drip down into the ceramic sink. "Harry, I'm going to go get Hannah's mother, is that alright?" she asked worriedly.

Harry nodded his head softly. He felt the world lurch and closed his eyes once more. "Yeah, that's fine." He said softly. He then heard footsteps moving away quickly.

Heavier rushing footsteps signified Cassandra was back. She began to wave her wand around him; he could hear the wood swishing through the air. "Well Mr. Potter, whatever you just did seriously drained your reserves. The amount of magic rushing through your body for what you did was destructive towards your body. If I had to guess I'd say your vision is swimming, your head is pounding with a migraine, and your eyes have a stabbing sensation."

"Yeah." Harry said softly, confirming her suspicions on what was wrong. "Did Susan like her gift?"

Cassandra paused a moment. "Yes, last I saw she was clutching them close to her chest, almost like she was afraid she was going to lose you or something. My readings show this isn't the first time you've done this."

"No. I did it in a duel against Professor Flitwick once." His Aura pulled on his magical energy. To draw ice using his naturally cold Aura pulled even more on his magical energy. Then to do conjuration, a very difficult subject, without any real training, and worse yet performing it on intermediate level object. Harry was honestly surprised he didn't pass out.

Cassandra frowned a moment. "Do not do so any more Mr. Potter. Damaging your body like that is difficult to treat because of the saturation of magical energy on the tissues. It acts like white blood cells towards foreign bodies, only in this case foreign magic. It has to naturally bleed off which can take months. Then you can get the damage treated. So unfortunately, right now I can't offer you anything for the pain. I can't even get a conclusive scan from the areas to properly diagnose the damage."

"I understand." Harry said softly with a small groan as he opened his eyes. He felt the stabbing sensation she had mentioned at the sight of the bright white stained with crimson. But he began to wash up; washing his hands and his face, as well as making sure the sink wouldn't remain stained. He then turned to look at Cassandra more fully.

"I wish you'd tell me more about what happened to your left side. It interferes with my scans as well. I'm not sure if it's the phoenix tears or something else. It feels like there is more to it than what you're telling me." Cassandra said, crossing her arms carefully.

"You really should!" Hannah said from behind her mother, causing Cassandra to jump slightly. "Mom quickly figured out that I'm a carrier for Dragon Pox. It's not contagious to be around me and I don't have any of the symptoms but I still carry it. She's really good at her job."

"Hannah," Cassandra admonished. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me? And for that matter about patient-healer confidentiality?" She asked.

Hannah's shoulders slumped. "Don't sneak up on a healer, you never know what they're going over. And patient-healer confidentiality is to be upheld unless a warrant for information is supplied by the Aurors and signed by the Wizengamot. We are there to help people, no matter the injury of malady." Hannah said with conviction.

Harry raised an eyebrow slightly, wondering about Hannah's conviction behind her statement.

"I want to be a Healer." Hannah said, seeing Harry's confusion. "Ideally, I want to do a bit of work under Madam Pomfrey before I leave Hogwarts so I have some hands-on work before I do some training at Saint Mungo's."

"What did you come up here for?" Cassandra asked a little softer.

"Well, Susan and I both wanted to give Harry his gifts today, same with Kingsley and Amelia." Hannah mentioned. "And Harry said in a letter to Amelia that he was on a tight time schedule, so she thought she'd make sure we could give Harry his gifts without conflicting with his schedule."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, trying to get the pain to ebb a little bit. "Sure." Harry said. "I'm going to have to meet with the Goblins soon enough, it might be best to do this now." Plus it got him away from Cassandra without having to try and explain that he slit himself open and put a rock inside of him.

Cassandra watched him like a hawk while he moved past her, out of the bathroom. He was certain that if she could, she'd of sent him to Saint Mungo's to run more comprehensive tests. So, he got lucky with that. Hopefully his luck would continue to hold up.

Harry followed Hannah back down to the sitting room where a few people looked worried. He waved a bit. "I apologize." Harry said as he took a seat, figuring they wouldn't mind if he sat down. "First for worrying everyone, that had not been my intention. I had never given a gift before, and the hair sticks seemed like the perfect gift to give to Susan."

"You've never given a gift before?" Kingsley asked sitting up.

Harry shrugged. "I was never given one either before this Christmas. So I get to spend the next few days scrambling to figure out what to get people. A few, I have ideas for, others not so much." He saw the sharp look that Cassandra was giving him and held up both hands. "I won't be conjuring anything more, I promise." He said hurriedly.

"So that's what they are." Amelia said plucking one of the hair sticks from her niece and looking at it. "A conjured construct. I had seen them broken, and I knew my brother had gotten a pair that was one of a kind. To see them again, it's baffling."

Harry shrugged a little bit. "I admit it was difficult to do. Ridiculously difficult to do even, but I think it was worth it."

Susan nodded softly. "It was thank you." She said brightly as she took the hair stick back from her Aunt and quickly swept her hair up with both of them. She then stood up and gave Harry his gift, a hand knitted blue and bronze scarf with Ravens that flew around on it. "I made it myself." She said a bit proudly.

Harry smiled a bit as he ran his hand over the scarf. It was a simple gift, but he enjoyed it. "Thank you Susan." He said as he laid it in his lap. "It's perfect." He offered.

Hannah moved over then and offered a book. "It's filled with basic medical spells and things of that nature." She said. "I copied some of my notes from when I practiced them into the book." She said.

Harry chuckled a little bit as he accepted the book. "As accident prone as I am at times, it is a very good thing to have, so thank you."

Kingsley brought over another book and passed it to Harry.

Harry looked down and then up to Kingsley. "You got me a book on Quidditch." He said in a flat tone.

"Someone always gets the gag gift Harry; you were just the easiest target this year." Kingsley said before chuckling that deep and rich laugh he had.

Harry grumbled slightly but he tucked it away. It was at least worth a read. "Still no interest!" he declared.

Amelia chuckled as she moved over and handed Harry a silver pocket watch.

Harry glanced up to Amelia, his confusion undoubtedly showing on his face. He glanced back down to the pocket watch and clicked it open, surprised to see a mirror on the reverse of the lid. He glanced back up to Amelia.

"Being Heir of House Potter means you need to know things that are generally passed down from the Lord and Lady of the family, down to their children. You don't have access to that." Amelia nodded to the mirror. "With that, you can contact me and I can help you. The Bones are one of the oldest Pureblood families, so I was taught all the information that will be needed, and I've passed it down to Susan. You've done well so far, as far as I can tell at least, but a little extra help goes a long way.

"Your father and his friend created a set of Enchanted Mirrors at Hogwarts to talk through. Your father gifted a set to me when he was still alive. It took a lot of studying of the spells and runes on it to figure it out fully, but I know how to make them now." Amelia said. "I made it as a means for Susan to contact me in an emergency; I'm offering it to you now so you can contact me to help bring you up to speed on the things you're meant to know. I'll test you before we go over what you're meant to know. I will also be giving you the method of creating them when I think you're ready. I'm sure you can pull the spells necessary off, but can you do so without injuring yourself?"

Harry nodded softly. "Thank you." He said before he glanced back down to the silver pocket watch.

He then saw the time. "Oh, that's not good." He said and snapped the pocket watch shut and tucked it into his pocket. He stood up, gathering the scarf and the two books. "I apologize, but I must be off. I have a meeting with the Goblins in five minutes to continue the tours of my homes." He said before he took off, heading for the Floo grate.

"See you on the Express!" Susan called out as Harry dashed away.

-_Scene Break-_

It had been a hellish day as he finished with the Goblins. But Harry wasn't done. His head pounded, the Portkey had not done him any favors in the slightest. But it needed to be done again. His wand was acting up once more. He could feel it in the Duel with Moody.

His shields were usually strong enough to hold up to more than two _Reducto_ spells. Flitwick chained more than two of them together, and his shields usually took an absolute beating because of it. It meant he had to go back to Olivander.

In all honest, Harry was worried about returning. Why wouldn't he be? He had just visited Olivander not that long ago. But it needed to be done. His magic was in constant flux again. He had even had difficulty focusing on the Conjuration of the hair sticks for Susan.

Harry opened the door, hearing the bell ring. Olivander looked up from the books he was going over. "Mr. Potter, welcome back." Olivander closed the books and tucked them away. "Why are you here once more?"

Harry flicked his wand out and set it on the counter between them silently.

Olivander frowned a moment, looking to the wand, then back up to Harry. "Mr. Potter, you shouldn't need anything done to your wand." He plucked it up anyways and examined it. "And yet here you need a second Tuning. The cores are solid, as is the stone. But the wood is threatening to break apart; a failsafe keeps it from doing so. It would explode quite violently if the wood breaks apart." Olivander said.

The wand maker set the wand down and pinned Harry with a look. "Now, Mr. Potter, I have to ask. What are you doing that requires you to get a second Tuning not even a week after the first?"

Harry wondered how much he could tell Olivander. "I have recently obtained powerful magical artifacts." He said, deciding to be honest on that account. "I originally thought I'd spent most of my life time looking for them, but somehow they keep showing up when, and where, I least expect it. As they accept me, they increase my own magic. I will have to spend some time at Hogwarts fighting to get my magic back under control." His magic had been fluctuating between weak and entirely too strong.

When he summoned his clothes that morning at Potter Manor, he had actually pulled the entire wardrobe to his bed.

Olivander tapped his finger against the wand a moment before he nodded. "So we need to now stabilize the wood." Olivander grabbed a small jar from under his counter with a rag. He then dipped the rag into the liquid in the jar and began to rub it against the wand's shaft carefully. "First we must strip away the polish, and the varnish. I use a relatively basic mix for the varnish that simply water proofs the wand. This would be detrimental to the process."

Olivander then got a clean, empty bowl and placed it on the counter. "Now, Mr. Potter, I will need some of your blood, as well as some blood from your familiar."

Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to give it. "How much?" he asked. Dust was not exactly a large bird after all.

And Blood held even more power than a Name to those with the intelligence to know how to use it.

Olivander set the wand down. "Not much, I assure the both of you. I shall be filling the bowl with another type of blood. This process is quite unsettling, but a necessity." Olivander said.

Harry rolled up his sleeve and offered his arm. Olivander used a needle and a syringe to take some blood and then emptied the syringe into the bowl. He banished the syringe afterward. He did the same to Dust, using a much smaller syringe to get the blood from the bird. He then headed into the back of his store.

Harry watched the crimson fluid swirl together. He briefly wondered what Olivander was going to do. But he returned a moment later with several potion bottles worth of blood. "Once more Mr. Potter, select the one that fits the best with you."

Harry inhaled slowly and began to move his hands over each of the bottles. He could feel his power reacting to them. He stopped on one and tapped it. "This one." He said before moving his hand away.

Olivander pursed his lips. "Yes, I should have thought you would pick this one." Olivander said as he uncorked the bottle and began to pour it into the bowl with the other blood. "Vampire blood Mr. Potter. My grandfather had the luck to be offered the blood of a vampire well over a thousand years of life." Olivander said. "This is a truly powerful reagent to be used in wand making. Blood in and of itself is a rather potent ingredient. Rarely is it even used outside of Tuning."

Harry nodded, still watching the mixture. The vampire blood had made it a great deal thicker. He gently petted Dust when the crow gave a caw.

Olivander then put the bottles back in the back of the shop once more. He came back with a small case. From it, he drew a silvery hair as well as a golden one. He entwined them carefully around his wand so that they didn't touch. Olivander then used a spell to secure them to the wand.

"Thestral and Valkyrie hair Mr. Potter, it should help hold the wood together as well as the blood." Olivander then slowly set the wand into the blood, making sure it was submerged before he covered the top of the glass bowl tightly.

"Come back tomorrow for your wand Mr. Potter." Olivander said as he tucked the bowl under the counter.

That evening, Harry just utterly collapsed onto his bed. Despite keeping up appearances, he had been exhausted since his day at the Bones' home. He shouldn't have even attempted the use of Conjuration.

But Harry didn't care, even as he succumbed to the darkness. It had been worth it for one of his friends. A concept he would do anything for. Just as he had told the Amadeus at the beginning of the school year.

For his friends, Harry would storm the very gates of Hell itself. Putting his body at risk was not outside the realm of a possibility.

But it had drained him something awful.

-End Chapter-

A/N: And there we have it folks, another chapter down. I'm starting to slow on these a little bit, but I'm hoping to pick the pace back up soon enough.

Adios.


	18. Book 1: Chapter 18

_Last Time: Harry has enjoyed Boxing Day at the Bones'. He received a few more gifts, but more importantly he dueled against Alastor Moody, showing that he still had quite some ways to go in becoming stronger. He also put his conjuration to the test, conjuring Susan a set of hair sticks that her mother wore but had been broken, though it strained his magic in the process. He has also gotten the second tuning of his wand, braided Thestral and Valkyrie hair up the length of his wand with a varnish of Vampire blood mixed with Dust's and Harry's._

Book One: Death

Chapter 18

Harry performed his morning rituals with practiced ease. His knife and wand were strapped to his forearms in their appropriate holsters. He dressed nicely and he prepared himself for the cold. Everything had become routine in the time he had spent at the Leaky Cauldron. But it was almost time for him to return to Hogwarts. He had just a few more days.

And they were inspecting the Black Ancestral Home that was available to them. Black Manor had been part of a Dowry to the Malfoy family. Regardless of his personal feelings, Harry would say that the Malfoys, through and through, were businessmen. But for the time, until they could possibly get Black Manor back, they would be inspecting Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry paused to glance at his wand a moment, briefly remembering how it looked when he went to pick it up. Olivander had to braid on more hairs to his wand after it had soaked in the blood mixture. So now he had had two braids of hair going up the shaft of his wand in a neat double spiral.

The wood, Yew being a naturally lighter wood, had been stained to a darker color because of the blood. Olivander then used stain and varnish on the wand, at Harry's request, so that it didn't stick out so much and so the braids of hair would continue to stay intact.

Magic never ceased to amaze him.

Harry headed out of the Leaky Cauldron and made his way to Gringotts. As he walked, he also thought about the Ministry Ball that evening. He was hoping that they would be able to finish up the preview of Number 12 with plenty of time for him to get ready.

He already had the dress robes necessary also. He just needed to finish with the day.

Harry arrived at Gringotts and saw that both Goblins were once more waiting for him. This time, it was Ironskull who presented the box to Harry. "You already know what it is."

Harry opened the box and drew out the simple silver band with an onyx set upon the top with a silver stylized 'B' on the face of the stone. Harry glanced to his fingers. His right index and middle fingers were taken with the Potter heir ring and the Resurrection Stone respectively. He slipped the Black heir ring onto his left index finger.

His 'ring' fingers were kept clear. The left was for his wedding band only in his opinion. And the right would be if his wife died before him. He wanted to uphold those traditions when it came to his rings at the very least.

Harry gently shook his head slightly as he noticed the ring finally sizing down to his finger and accepting him. "Master Ironskull, would it be alright if after our time at Number 12 if I were to remove the ring? I do not want parties that don't need to know knowing that I am Heir Black, as well as Heir Potter." Harry said.

"Past today?" Ironskull asked rhetorically. "No. But you will need the ring today to key you into the Wards of Number 12. As well as commanding the old House Elf. Kreacher is… Well, you'll see." Ironskull took out the silver pocket watch and held it out in one hand. "I believe you know what to do."

Harry and Rotgut touched the pocket watch. They were swept away to a rundown part of London. Harry could feel the powerful wards already as he glanced at Number 12. And the wards were indeed powerful. Wards designed to repel the Mundane people. They were also highly concentrated. If Harry was to guess, no Mundane person could see Number 12. They'd just think it went from Number 11 to Number 13.

"Eight bedrooms, six full bathrooms, a finished attic, a drawing room, a library, and even a Wine cellar, Number 12 was, at one point in time, the grandest of all the Black Properties, excluding of course Black Manor that was given as part of Narcissa Black's dowry to the Malfoy family." Ironskull said as he led the way up the steps. "I'm afraid at this point, with the death of Walburga and Arcturus having moved away decades ago, I do not know the current state of the House. Arcturus, regrettably, passed shortly before your birthday of this year."

Ironskull produced the silver key to the Black home and offered it to Harry. Harry took it with his left hand and quickly unlocked the door. He braced himself and opened the door. He wasn't certain about the state of the house.

Immediately, Harry was assaulted with the smell of dust, mildew, and other foul smells. He brought his hand up to his scarf and brought it up over the lower half of his face. It was a foul smell. He began to step into the entry way, immediately noting that the reputation of the Black Family being a Dark Family was well founded.

Especially if they used a troll foot as an umbrella stand.

"_Filth! Defiler of my home! Creatures and Abominations, Half-blood spawn! How dare you enter into the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?" _Harry's gaze was drawn to a portrait of a snarling woman. He noticed it was faded, likely showing her descent into madness.

"It would seem that Kreacher has died." Ironskull said as he stepped in beside Harry. "A pity, I actually liked the insane little elf."

Harry moved forward, ignoring the screeching of the portrait as he made his way up to it. He reached to the side of it and tried to bring it down, but it refused to budge. "Hmm, it would seem there is a sticking spell of some sort on it." He mused to himself.

"Trespassers! In the Noble House of Black! Be gone! Unhand Kreacher's Mistress!" Harry saw the demented looking elf with narrowed, glaring eyes making his way towards him. "Be Gone from this place dirty Half-blood!" Kreacher snarled. "Kreacher knows not how you got here, but you do not belong!"

Harry turned to face Kreacher fully. He could see the elf charging his magic. While a House Elf was expressly forbidden from attacking a wizard, they could defend themselves or their master from an outside threat. Harry held out his left hand, making sure the stylized silver 'B' was right side up. "I am Heir Black, do you acknowledge Kreacher?" Harry asked. He had a feeling he was going to have to be heavy handed with the House Elf. Not abusive and not even punishing. But he was going to have to keep Kreacher backed into a proverbial corner.

Harry could see Kreacher trying to fight the magic of the bond between Heir and House Elf, his teeth gritting and his eyes narrowed even more. The magic in his hand was threatening to bubble over. "Do. You. Acknowledge. Kreacher?" Harry said firmly.

The magic in Kreacher's hand dissipated. His head bowed, Kreacher's forehead touching Harry's hand on the ring. There was a grip of magic that flowed through Harry. "Kreacher acknowledges the filthy half-blood minor Master." He said scornfully.

Harry nodded and drew his hand away from Kreacher. "You should be ashamed of yourself House Elf. You have allowed your Noble House to fall into disrepair." Harry said, watching Kreacher. "Take the portrait of Walburga Black to be restored using funds from my personal vault, then place her portrait into the Black Vault with the other Portraits. Until I can find a place to put them, I do not want them to be damaged."

Harry fished out his Gringotts key for his personal vault. "Next, I want you to retrieve twenty Galleons. You will go and get yourself a better set of clothes more appropriate for your stations as the Head Elf of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and if you cannot find a set of clothing, you will buy the materials to make your own." Harry said handing the key over to Kreacher. "You will return any left over money to me, with my key, before dusk tonight Kreacher."

"Filthy Half-blood minor Master Commands, so shall Kreacher obey." Kreacher said, shuffling over to Walburga's portrait.

Harry turned to the two Goblins. "Master Rotgut, another of those abominations is here." Harry said his eyes flashing with a bit of annoyance as he walked down the stairs, heading to the drawing room. "You might want to go get a team to transport and destroy it."

Harry heard the Goblin swear in the Goblin tongue before taking a Portkey away. Harry wiped the dust from the glass cabinet and looked inside of it. In moments, he spotted the Horcrux and took out his knife. He opened the cabinet and reached in with the knife, lifting the locket up.

Kreacher squawked and flung himself at Harry, beating at him with surprisingly strong hands. "No! Filthy Half-blood! You mustn't! Know nothing; Filthy Half-Blood Minor Master knows nothing! Oh Kreacher's poor Master Regulus, such a smart Master, unlike the Filthy Half-blood." Dust cawed as he took to the air, moving on top of the cabinet

Harry snarled. "Kreacher back off or I will tie your ears together with a sock and dismiss you!" He bellowed out. Kreacher froze instantly, tennis ball sized eyes wide with his fear, a fear of being dismissed. Harry inhaled slowly and used his knife to pick up the locket once more. "Why is this important to you Kreacher?" Harry asked.

Kreacher shook his head, firmly keeping his mouth shut. "Kreacher won't say. Filthy Half-blood Minor Master can punish Kreacher, but Kreacher won't say."

Harry looked to Kreacher. "I know this is a Horcrux Kreacher. I know of the foul magic behind this and I will see it purged of that foulness. Why is it important to you?" Harry asked.

Kreacher looked up at Harry. "Filthy Half-blood Minor Master knows what it is? Can destroy it? He can finish Master Regulus' work?"

A few puzzle pieces began to click together for Harry. He took a knee in front of Kreacher, putting him on more even of a level with the House Elf. "You've been ordered to destroy this, haven't you Kreacher?" Harry asked.

Kreacher's ears drooped a moment before he nodded. "Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to go, to destroy it."

Harry was thoughtful for a moment. "How long ago?" he asked.

"Kreacher lost track, lost such track of time. All of Kreacher's magic wouldn't destroy it. Kreacher tried to burn it, to smelt it, Kreacher tried many kitchen knives. Nothing worked." Kreacher said, grabbing his ears and bashing his head against the wall.

Harry grabbed him by the back of his uniform and dragged him away from the wall. "Focus Kreacher." Harry barked out. His tone then softened. "Kreacher, I will help finish Regulus' work." Harry said softly. "I have already seen three of these abominations destroyed, including this ring." Harry removed the Peverell ring.

Kreacher looked hopeful. "Minor Master is as noble as Master Regulus." Kreacher said after a moment. "Kreacher hopes to see it done."

Harry glanced to Ironskull who nodded simply. Rotgut came forward, having already gotten a response team. The locket was dropped into a cold iron box.

"Go with the Goblins Kreacher, they will allow you to examine it afterwards." Harry said. He stood up and tucked the knife away. "Master Rotgut, I believe you will need Parseltongue to open that locket. If you do, bring me something to record the words with and I will speak it." He got a confirmation from Rotgut before both Goblins and Elf moved away.

"Four of those filthy abominations…" Ironskull said and spat in a corner. "You Mr. Potter are quite the individual. You've seen to it that four of those abominations are destroyed. I can see why High King Ragnarokk has taken a liking to you."

Harry nodded and watched Ironskull for a moment. "If I may, Master Ironskull, why is it the Goblins have been so forthcoming in the eradication of these abominations? I would figure I could have it done for a cost, yet Gringotts and the Goblin Nation have done it with an almost glee."

"The Goblin Nation has sworn to eradicate that particular piece of magic in its entirety. A loathsome wizard created two for two purposes a long time ago. The first Horcrux fell into a Goblin's hands. It slowly corrupted and possessed him until it was the Wizard's conscious in a Goblin's body. Then the Goblin-wizard went and obtained the second Horcrux.

"High King Ragnarokk and his clan have not always been the rulers of the Goblin Nation. It had at one point been the Scar clan of Goblins. In 1561, a Goblin by the name of Bloodmoor got into a fight with Wizards. He instigated the fight, and was killed. High King Scarmoor was a distant relative. High King Scarmoor should have let the incident go, even if it happened to a relative. Bloodmoor had been the instigator into the situation.

"Unfortunately by the time this had happened, the High King had been possessed by the second Horcrux the Goblin-Wizard had obtained. A wizard with prejudices against the Goblin Nation. High King Scarmoor called for battle and so our troops marched." Ironskull said with obvious distaste. "When the War failed for our side, the entire Scar clan was butchered, as had the Blood clan. It was only through finding journals of High King Scarmoor and later the Goblin-Wizard Scarmoor, that we found out what happened. But the damage had already been done."

Harry nodded softly. That was an understandable reason. The Goblins had lost much to the vile creations. If Harry was honest, he was surprised they even tried to purge the Horcruxes instead of just flat out destroying them.

While Kreacher and Rotgut were out doing their duties, Harry and Ironskull talked about what they planned to do with Number 12. Harry even returned the Goblin made goblets to Ironskull so that he might take them back with him to Gringotts. They may have been the height of status at one point in time, but Harry figured that it would go a long way into helping continued relations with Gringotts.

Eventually, Harry was left alone in Number 12. Perhaps it was not the best place to be alone; it was a good deal darker than Potter Manor had been.

But like Potter Manor, Harry felt a very specific bit of magic inside Number 12. He found himself drawn towards the drawing room once more. A desk rattled, but given it was locked, whatever was inside wouldn't escape any time soon.

There, sitting on a bust of a wizard, was the Shadow Cowl. He removed the object from the bust, feeling the magic radiating from it. He took great care in fitting it on over his head and letting it rest on his shoulders. The hood of the cowl lay back, allowing it to mostly disappear under whatever cloak or robes he wore at the time.

The Shadow Cowl was full of enchantments. A masterpiece of enchanting really. It had dozens of languages built into it, allowing Harry to speak or hear that language. When the hood was drawn up, it would mask his features, and his voice, making Harry take on the appearance of the Pale Rider. A Rider who was faceless and obscured by shadows.

Perhaps the most useful of enchantments would be that it would keep a few magical means of killing him from working so long as he wore it. He could still be killed by most 'mundane' means. If he was burnt to ash, he was killed. If he bled out, he'd be dead. If his organs were turned to liquid, he would be dead.

It was the various potions, spells, and beasts that destroyed the soul that would be rendered ineffectual. The gaze of a basilisk and the Killing Curse to name two such examples that Harry no longer didn't have to worry about. Of course, a basilisk's venom would still kill him in under a minute. And any wizard that could effectively cast the Killing Curse would likely know a worse spell to use that would work just as well against Harry.

Still, the Cowl wouldn't be coming off. Not for extended periods of times. It was too valuable not to leave on.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry checked himself in the mirror a few more times in Regulus' room, staying there at Kreacher's insistence of course. It was the first time that he had dressed up so… expensively. His robes were done in a deep rich green, made from acromantula silk that shimmered. There were slighter shades of green done in stripes, but it was impossible to really tell unless you were staring really closely at them. It caused his eyes to look a different color green based on how he stood in the light. The robes came down to just above his knees, fashionable yet more functional than the robes that came down to the ankles that Hogwarts students were required to wear.

On the left breast of his robes was the Coat of Arms for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, with the family motto directly under it.

Black silk pants were tucked into a pair of dragon hide leather boots. He was told the Hungarian Horntail that went into making them had died of natural causes which increased the natural bronze luster of the hide that went into making his boots. A long sleeved silk button up shirt, done in the mundane style, completed his outfit.

His cowl was underneath his shirt, thankfully the material it being made of was extremely thin so it could settle under his shirt without being noticeable.

Harry used a basic glamor on his hair, turning the tips red once more. He kept his hair as a crow's nest. Anyone that knew the Potter family would know that there was nothing they could do about the messy way the males had their hair lay.

"Minor Master, ten minutes." Kreacher said, popping in. He wore an exquisite suit himself and had been working all day in attempting to clean up Number 12.

"Thank you Kreacher." Harry told the elf and heard him pop back out.

Harry removed the Black Heir ring and the Peverell family ring and set them into a jewelry box. The same box also held the Slytherin Locket, at least until Harry could get it with the other artifacts of the Founders. It made him wonder how the School had known he'd complete the set.

Then again, Divination was a real Magical Art. And Seers had been taught at Hogwarts. Surely the school itself could learn, given how much magic went into its construction.

Harry shifted the Potter Heir ring from his right index finger to his right middle finger. He then headed down towards the sitting room where a fireplace was. Kreacher was waiting with a fresh pot of Floo powder. Magic sparked in his hand for a moment before he cast a simple, and temporary, spell on Harry. It would keep him from getting ashy as he came out of the Floo.

Harry took a pinch of the powder and tossed it into the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic, London!" he said firmly as he stepped through.

He exited through a grate as other witches and wizards exited. Harry steeled himself a bit, taking a deep breath. Dust would not be with him that evening. Harry would be on his own. He locked down his Occlumency shields and began to walk, following the other well-dressed individuals.

He came to an Auror, manning the door and acting as security. Harry handed his invitation to the Auror "Wand please." The Auror said.

Harry allowed it to slide out of his holster and to his hand. "Why?" he asked, tilting his head. "I'm just curious." He hadn't heard about this.

"Security reasons Heir Potter." The Auror said, taking a moment to glance to the Coat of Arms on Harry's breast. "No one past this point, asides from Security, is allowed their wands. It's to keep duels from happening tonight."

Harry nodded and passed the Auror his wand. "Thank you Auror…?"

"Johnson." He said.

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor Chaser would you?" Harry asked, tilting his head slightly.

The Auror nodded and handed Harry a slip of parchment. "Hold onto that. That will let you claim your wand a lot quicker and easier than having to describe it."

Harry nodded and tucked it into the inner breast pocket of his robes. He'd rather not have some Auror trying to find the right wand, even though Harry was certain his was the only one with a gem at the end of it.

Harry stepped through the door and immediately he felt his senses assaulted. He could hear the beating of war drums, smell smoke and fire, taste blood, and hear the songs of steel ring around him. His eyes glanced around, trying to look for a familiar face from Hogwarts.

War was there. War, his beloved lost sister was there at the Ball.

"Harry!" A jovial tone sounded out, and he was snapped out of the vision he was having. "So glad you could make it my boy." Harry was faced with a man wearing lime green robes and was balding slightly. Harry thought the man was a bit rotund.

"Minister Fudge, I was glad I could accept the invitation." Harry said as he took the Minister's hand and shook it firmly.

"Come along Harry, there are people I want you to meet." Fudge said, leading Harry away from the entrance. He introduced Harry to quite a few different people. Many of them had children at Hogwarts, and some of them had even brought their children there to the ball.

Harry took the time to try and figure if any of them were War. There were even some like Marietta Edgecombe that he took a moment to re-evaluate on his opinion if they were War or not. But the visions would not come back. He knew War was a female, but it was so difficult to pinpoint her down.

He thankfully avoided Pansy Parkinson speaking with Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. Harry had no problem with Daphne; she was generally a quiet girl. But it was Pansy who was as much of a gossip mongrel as Lavender Brown that he had problems with.

"Ah, and here is my very good friend Lucius Malfoy. No doubt you know of his son Draco from school. And the lovely woman on Lucius' arm is his wife Narcissa." Fudge said, drawing Harry's attention back and onto the three Malfoys.

"Mister Malfoy." Harry said inclining his head slightly to the older Malfoy. "Mister Malfoy the younger." Harry inclined his head to Draco. "And Madam Black." Harry inclined his head the most to Narcissa. Not quite a bow, after all Death Bowed to no one.

"My wife is the Lady Malfoy; you will afford her the respect of that title." Lucius said coolly.

Harry covered his mouth slightly as he let a small chuckle out. He could tell the interaction was confusing to Fudge and that Draco was quite upset.

"What is so funny Potter?" Lucius asked, keeping his tone even and cool.

Harry stopped his chuckling. "First, it is Heir Potter, as my station and the formal setting demands. Second, Narcissa Malfoy is a Lady of the Black Family by Blood." Harry saw Lucius starting to speak and held his hand up. "The Malfoy family has been in England for the past eight generations, including the younger Mister Malfoy. Being excellent businessmen have allowed the Malfoy Family to accumulate their wealth in such a short time. Before arriving in England, they had two generations of French nobility before being chased out. We're currently at ten generations of magical blood in their veins. If you go back another ten, you will come across a family of Non-magical sheep farmers.

"The Potter family has had magical blood in their veins for no less than forty generations, being entitled for the past twenty two generations, including myself as Heir to the title of Earl Potter." Harry said sharply. "The Black Family has had magical blood in their veins for the longest of all entitled families in England, coming up at a most impressive fifty two generations of Magical Blood. They have been the Heir to the title of Baron Black of Blackmoor for thirty nine generations. My point, Mister Malfoy, is that by calling your wife anything but Madam Black unless she asks me to call her by Lady Malfoy would be a grave insult to her and to the Black Family." Harry said before he could realize his mistake and the setting.

He had allowed the insults to get to him in a very public setting, a very public and formal setting.

It was surprisingly Narcissa that spoke first. "Madam Black and Lady Malfoy are both acceptable Heir Potter." She said, offering her gloved hand to Harry.

"Madam Black." Harry said snubbing Lucius Malfoy as he took the velvet covered hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of her knuckles. "If you'll excuse me, I think I will go mingle, perhaps enjoy some of the excellent selection of food being offered. I would be delighted if you saved a dance for me Madam Black."

Narcissa's lips curled into a slight smile. "Of course Heir Potter. I would be remiss if I didn't share a dance with my cousin, no matter how distant he was." She said.

Harry inclined his head once more. He turned to the Minister a moment. "I would like to speak with you about a private matter later on this evening Minister, if you can afford the time." He said.

"Of course Harry, or would you rather Heir Potter?" Fudge asked.

Harry decided to cut the Minister a little slack. He looked a tad green around the gills after all. "I am your guest tonight Minister, my invitation was from your desk after all. Harry is fine." He said before turning and walking away, just to get away.

He grabbed a small appetizer from one of the House Elves moving about with the platters of the food. He ate slowly and calmly, just gazing around to room. He had no idea who War might be in the room, but he knew she was there.

Harry desperately hoped it wasn't Pansy; he wasn't sure how she would keep it quiet. He saw Morag McDougal and inclined his head to her slightly. Her family was highly influential so it was no surprise that he saw her there.

An arm slipped around his from behind him. "Hello Heir Potter." A female voice said.

Harry turned his head slightly to look into the sapphire colored eyes of Daphne Greengrass. "Hello Heiress Greengrass." He said. While her family wasn't as old and influential as the Potter family, there was still weight to the Greengrass name, even if they had declined every title ever offered onto them.

"We are dancing." Daphne said firmly, moving him out onto the dance floor. She placed a hand on his shoulder and settled her hand in his own.

Harry place one hand on her hip and lightly cupped her hand. He then began to move to the dance with Daphne. It was a basic waltz, nothing particularly fancy. "So we are." Harry said as he moved with the blonde girl.

"Was there any truth to your words about the Malfoy family origins?" Daphne asked with a light smirk on her lips.

"Of course." Harry said. "I actually quite like history. Those that fail to study history are doomed to repeat it after all. Finding information on various families is not that difficult, if you have the connections and or the gold." Harry said.

"Excellent." Daphne said. "Malfoy has been getting pompous in the Slytherin common rooms because his father is on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. This will hopefully knock him down a notch." She said. "'My father shall hear about this'" she drawled like Malfoy had undoubtedly done. She shook her head. "It is better to take such situations into your own hands, but a true Slytherin does not pass up such potential dirt like this."

"I had actually not wanted to use the information." Harry said honestly. "There are better times, better places after all than at a formal ball."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin." Daphne said. "Why is it the Sorting Hat didn't put you in the House of Salazar?"

Harry smiled a little bit, like he was keeping secrets. He was, of course, but she didn't need to know just how many. "I bow to no one, and someone would have tried to make me bow." As the dance wound to a close, Harry took a step back. He raised Daphne's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Thank you for the dance Heiress Greengrass." He said.

"Of course Heir Potter." Daphne said with a slight curtsey. She then moved away, likely to go speak with someone else.

Harry moved about, mingling a little while with various people. He spoke with Lord Nott who often bought Acromantula silk from one of the Potter businesses. Given Harry had worked the deal to offer Lord Nott a discount so that he bought all of his Acromantula silk from the business, Harry had a vested interest to speak with Lord Nott, regardless of how he was aligned.

"Potter," Lucius suddenly drawled from behind Harry. "My wife wishes to dance with you. Do not sully her with your presence for too long."

Harry stared coolly into Lucius' blue eyes. "Mr. Malfoy, I have told you once already. It is Heir Potter, and I expect you to follow it." He then headed off, moving over to Narcissa who was sitting at one of the tables.

"Madam Black, might I have this dance?" Harry asked as he recognized the opening lines of another waltz. Anything more complicated was a little beyond him at the moment. He even was a good gentleman and held his hand out slightly.

Narcissa stood up. "Of course Heir Potter." She said, taking his hand and following him out onto the dance floor to dance. "It is most impressive that you can dance Heir Potter, given that you were out of the Magical World for quite some years."

"I have learned at least some of the basics." Harry said diplomatically. "Anything beyond a basic waltz at the moment is beyond my capabilities. With school, my family's businesses, and inspecting the state of my various estates with the Goblins, I have been too busy for a proper tutor. However, that should change soon enough."

Narcissa nodded slowly. "If you need a tutor, I could perhaps show you some time. Of course, I will have to come to you given the clear animosity between you and my husband." She offered politely.

"That is a generous offer Madam Black." Harry said. He then glanced to see Lucius out of the corner of his eye.

"I hate to be the bearer of such information, Madam Black," Harry started. "But your husband has magic around his left arm that has marked him for death." He said in a low tone. "It is weak, but still there and whoever cast such magic around his left arm will drag your husband to the grave when they die."

Narcissa managed to not look startled, an impressive feat given she was told her husband would die. "Is there nothing that can be done?" she asked. "While love never fostered between Lucius and I, we have become close friends and partners over the years of our marriage. I would not wish to see him die." She said.

"If the connection could be severed before the person that cast the spell is killed, then your husband will survive." Harry said.

"Are you absolutely certain Heir Potter?" Narcissa asked.

Harry nodded softly. He could even feel it on a few of the older families with darker ties to them. "Amputating the arm might work as well, but I am not entirely certain." He said. He wasn't sure where this new feeling had come from. Perhaps it had come from when he collected most of his artifacts.

The song ended and Harry kissed Narcissa's hand once more. "Thank you for the dance Madam Black." He said.

"I would ask you to step away from my wife now Potter." Lucius said.

Harry quickly understood Lucius' ploy. By continuing to call Harry 'Potter' instead of 'Heir Potter', he was challenging him publically. Harry continued to correct Lucius, but had yet to do anything about Lucius' constant challenging. Harry squared his shoulders as he turned to face Lucius. "If you continue to call me by anything other than my proper title without being given leave to use something other than my proper title, I shall take it as you challenging me to an Honor duel. Given I am still underage and the Heir to an Ancient and Most Noble family, I am entitled to call upon a champion to perform in an Honor Duel for me." Harry said coldly. He knew his aura was flared a little bit, giving him a bit more of a terrifying presence.

"I am certain that Master Auror Alastor Moody or Dueling Champion Fillius Flitwick would be more than happy to be my Champion in such a duel." Harry said, staring into Lucius' eyes. He refused to back down on this matter.

Lucius had a tic work in his jaw. For a moment, Harry thought he might actually consider the Honor Duel. "I wouldn't be so certain, Heir Potter." Lucius grit out.

Harry then turned and walked away, he refused to be bullied by the likes of Lucius Malfoy. Granted, when he turned sixteen he would no longer be allowed to call upon a Champion unless he was physically unable to perform the Duel.

Still, there were a few years before that would happen and Harry was certain that it wouldn't matter.

He felt another female slid their arm around his and lead him away. He glanced over and up slightly to notice the taller Tracy Davis. Her dark brown hair was drawn into an intricate knot and her honey colored eyes looked to him with a small hint of mischief. "So, Heir Potter, you have quite the courage to stand up to Lucius Malfoy like that." She said.

"He was challenging me, and no doubt everyone was noticing. I will fight my own battles, but I am also duty bound to continue the Potter line. I would have called upon a champion if it became necessary." Harry said.

Tracy nodded. "I figured as much. So… how much have you learned under Professor Flitwick?" she asked sounding less like the heiress to a pureblood family and more like a young girl. "I've always found Dueling to be fascinating, and I'm almost certain Flitwick is teaching you how to duel." She said.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Perhaps he is; how can you tell?" he asked.

"It's in the way you walk. You walk with a firm gait, planting your feet. You won't be pushed back by anything." Tracy said. "Your shoulders are squared, and your body is always at the ready, like a tree about to weather a great storm. I'd wager a guess that you're being trained to be a Fortress Duelist."

Harry gave nothing away. "Perhaps I am, perhaps I am not." Harry gave a slight shrug. "Perhaps I'm more of an Assault Duelist."

Tracy smiled more. "Not likely Heir Potter. You're not a Gryffindor." She said.

"I did jump off of Hogwarts." Harry politely reminded.

Tracy paused a moment and inclined her head. "That you did, which might I say was monumentally stupid to do."

Harry nodded. "I am aware now that I have thought more about it. There are plenty of political ramifications to that action as well." Harry glanced around. "Excuse me Miss Davis." He said. Tracy wasn't the Heir to the Davis name so she didn't get the 'Heiress' title.

"Of course Heir Potter." Tracy said before moving away to go talk with Daphne.

Harry made his way over to the Minister. "Minister Fudge, might I have that private talk?" he asked noting that Fudge was alone for the time being.

"Harry my boy, of course." Fudge said cheerfully. He looked less green at having his guest arguing with one of his biggest backers. Fudge place a hand on Harry's shoulder and led him away to a quiet area where they could talk. "What's on your mind?"

Harry turned to face Fudge fully. "Minister, I intend to speak before the Wizengamot during the first meeting of the New Year on the Tenth." Harry said. "I was hoping you would announce me and keep my intentions quiet, just between the two of us." Harry was no fool. He knew that Cornelius Fudge would be better able to get on the docket for the Wizengamot meeting than Harry was.

Fudge nodded slightly. "Of course, of course." He said. "It's a great thing to see you taking an interest in politics at such a young age. Could I ask what this is about however, to give me an idea?"

Harry considered it. It was a serious topic that he would be speaking to the Wizengamot about. "I cannot go into too many details Minister, but it is a serious topic regarding the Goblin Nation." Harry said lowly.

Fudge blinked slightly. "Harry, why would you be bringing such a topic before the Wizengamot?"

"Minister, I just as for your trust in the matter." Harry said softly.

Fudge nodded softly. "Of course. I will get myself penned in onto the docket for the very first thing. Unless an emergency has arisen, we shall attend to your matter right away on the tenth. Will you need transport from Hogwarts?"

Harry took a moment. "A Portkey would be beneficial. I won't have ash and soot from the Floo network." Harry said, trying to end on a lighter note.

Fudge laughed a bit at the image. 'No, it won't do to have you appear before the Wizengamot like that. I'll get one to you Harry."

"Thank you Minister." Harry said and shook the man's hand again.

Harry then headed out. He stopped by Auror Johnson to pick up his wand once more. He had stayed long enough to be polite and sociable, but despite Harry's friendlier attitude by request of Professor Flitwick, Harry was still an anti-social introvert.

Harry took the Floo back to Number 12. He then went to bed in Regulus' old room, falling on it in his robes.

He had recognized most of the faces at the ball. While he would have liked to have found War, finding and convincing a person of their title like that would be incredibly difficult to do in such a public setting. It would be better if he waited.

Sleep came quite quickly for the Pale Rider.

-End Chapter-


	19. Book 1: Chapter 19

_Last Time: Harry has toured Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and found yet another Horcrux, this time Slytherin's locket. Also, he has found the Shadow Cowl, one of the final Deathly Artifacts within the Black Ancestral Home. At the Ministry Ball, Harry bluntly insults Lucius Malfoy, and in return the Senior Malfoy returns the insults in a more subtle manner until Harry threatens to challenge him to a duel for it. Harry also gets Fudge to pen a spot into the Wizengamot meeting for the new year._

Book One: Death

Chapter 19

Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express on the Fourth of January. He quickly found a compartment and set about putting everything in order. He got out a bundle of books that he had gotten for Hannah, in return for the book she had gotten him. He also drew out one of the books he got from the Potter Manor on Conjuration. It talked about how to maximize results without using as much power, so he definitely wanted to work with that more.

He also grabbed his gift to Millicent, a copy of one of the Potter Family's tomes on Illusions. He hadn't gotten much time to really study up on Illusion magic, but he was certain that there would be time to do so.

Harry posted his sign on the door and closed and locked it. He then hefted the trunk up into the luggage compartment. Hermione's gift he had to wait until he got to Hogwarts to properly give to her. He had to get it after all since he left it in the Room of Requirements.

He was certain the brainy witch would appreciate a copy of the journal of Rowena Ravenclaw if he could manage it.

Hagrid's gift was locked up in his trunk. He didn't have a chance of seeing the big man on the train after all, so it would be best if Harry left it alone for the time being. He was certain that Hagrid would be most appreciative of the gift. At least, Harry hoped he would. He didn't exactly know what to get Hagrid. He just knew Hagrid liked animals.

Ron's gift had been easy, going into a bookstore in London after the business with the Goblins one day had seen to that. Plus, Harry had a few other plans involved with Ron that he had to wait a bit on. He also managed a gift for the Twins, as well as something for Ron to pass onto his mother.

Flitwick's gift had been a bit difficult to manage. Flitwick seemed to have anything he might have wanted when it came to Dueling or Charms. So, Harry had to think outside of the box and work with a bit of Goblin culture through what Rotgut and Ironskull would answer.

Kingsley's gift had been easy to obtain as well. While he didn't necessarily appreciate the joke gift, he still kept it and even read it. He was always willing to learn, and a book like Quidditch Through the Ages was definitely a book full of information worth learning.

Amelia's gift was going to be just as difficult. In fact, Harry was desperately hoping to speak with Susan so he could have some sort of idea as to what he could get for Amelia. He didn't want the woman to be neglected in his gift giving, especially after giving him such a precious gift that was always at his side now.

Harry had barely settled down in his seat before the door was knocked upon. He opened it to see a brightly smiling Hermione. He motioned her inside and helped her with her luggage, hefting it up into the rack on his own. "Did you have a good Christmas Harry?" Hermione asked

"I did thank you, I spent much of my time touring the various properties in England that belong to the Potter family." Harry said as he sat down. "I had been quite surprised when I received gifts. I admittedly have never received any and did not expect any this year. To receive some and not have something in return was a bit embarrassing. I've spent most of my free time this break attempting to come up with ideas for the various people that did get me something." He said. "How was your own Christmas Hermione?"

"It was good, thanks." Hermione said brightly. "I went skiing with my parents. While I have no talent at it, I enjoy spending time with my mum and dad. I think they might be worried I won't come back one summer and so they're trying to put as much time in as possible." She then glanced to Harry. "So did you manage to get something for everyone?" she asked.

Harry was thoughtful. "Mostly. Yours you will have to wait on." He saw her pout, reminding Harry that while she may be considered bossy, she was still an eleven year old girl. "I should have it to you by tomorrow."

Harry stood up at the next knock and opened the door. He ushered Millicent inside, not at all bothered by the Slytherin girl. She was the only one that he had really spoken with on more than a few occasions. He took her trunk and put it in the luggage area. "Did you get my book?" Millicent asked.

"I did." Harry said and sat down. "And in return," He offered her the book he had copied for her. "I'm certain your family will know most of the techniques in that, but I know the importance of family magic. The fact you offered a book from your family's library means I could do no less."

Millicent looked excited. 'Thank you!" she exclaimed, opening the book almost reverently. "When do I need to get this back to you?" she asked, glancing up.

Harry shook his head. "It's a copy of the actual book. It's your to keep." He said and got a beaming smile from the girl in return. He was certain that she would get a better use out of the book for the time being than he would. From what he had understood, Illusion based magic took a ridiculous amount of control and finesse to pull off.

Control that, at the moment, was out of Harry's grasp due to the influx of power from his Artifacts. He could probably throw out a Blasting Hex with as much power had surged through him, and he had found that sometimes his magic would actually arc along his fingertips, the volatile energy seeking a means of escape.

It hadn't been anything dangerous yet, but Harry knew he had too much magic running through him. His body wasn't used to it just yet, and that was before the random growths during puberty that were going to be coming up. He had forcefully expanded his Core by complete accident.

He was going to have to fight to get control back once more.

Harry picked up on a small, timid knock at the door and he rose up out of his seat. It was so faint, he had almost missed it. Harry opened the door to see a slightly taller boy with a slightly rounded look to him. Like he still had his baby fat, but that was it.

"D-Do you mind?" The obviously shy boy asked softly. A croaking toad was heard from his hand where he kept a box closed tightly.

Harry stepped aside. "Hermione you know from your own House. Millie you might not know too well." Harry said, stepping aside.

Harry helped the boy heft his trunk up into the overhead rack before he grabbed Hannah's presents and set them to the side closer to himself. Harry then took a seat to watch the newcomer for a moment, almost weighing him carefully. If Harry was honest with himself, this was one person that he should have been acquainted with a lot better, but he kept putting it off.

"Thanks Harry." The boy said with obvious relief. "Err – I mean Heir Potter." He said.

Harry waved it off. "Relax; I'm only Heir Potter in a formal setting. I'd rather you call me Harry. Would you mind me calling you Neville?"

The boy in question shook his head, his relief plain. "Thanks Harry, I really mean it." Neville said gratefully.

Harry considered Neville Longbottom for a while. If he was honest, he had purposely been putting the meeting between the two of them off for as long as possible. Harry wasn't sure about how he judged Neville. There were too many factors to take in that made things difficult for Harry to really get close to the boy.

The first was Neville's magic. Neville was, bluntly put, stupidly powerful. Even for as young as he was, the feeling of his magic was almost intimidating by how it utterly dwarfed many others. Even sitting inside the same carriage of the train, Harry could hardly feel both Hermione's magic and Millicent's magic. Neither of them were slouches in their own rights, but Neville's was just massive.

If it hadn't been for the boy's shy nature, Harry might have mistaken him for War before he found out War was a female.

Then there was Neville's control. Having had Charms with Neville for the better part of four months, Harry was well aware that Neville had to fight for every last ounce of control of his magic. His magic was entirely too chaotic and Harry was honestly worried about when it would turn inwards on Neville, refusing to yield to his demands. It was not going to be a pretty thing to witness.

Lastly, and perhaps what bothered Harry the most, was their status. Neville was his God Brother, so to speak, in that Lily Potter was the God Mother to Neville Longbottom and Alice Longbottom was the God Mother to Harry Potter. The paperwork was on file at Gringotts, as were the Wills for his Parents. Harry had already read said wills, but was unable to execute them yet. They required him to be at least fourteen before they could be executed.

How was Harry supposed to react to that? How was he supposed to feel about knowing someone that he was supposed to grow up with? It was difficult for Harry truthfully. He didn't feel the need to bring it up really. Not until it became relevant and it hadn't become relevant just yet.

"Neville, why did you call Harry Heir Potter?" Hermione asked, breaking Harry's train of thought.

"Well, my Gran, the Dowager Longbottom formally, had witnessed Harry essentially destroy much of the Malfoy family's credibility with some of the older pureblood families." Neville said. "And since Harry is Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter,"

"And given the fact my family is holder of the title of Earl," Harry supplied for Neville.

"In a formal situation it would be Heir Potter." Neville finished up.

Hermione looked surprised at that. "You're an Earl?" she asked, looking directly to Harry.

It was not something he generally cared about, so Harry shrugged slightly. "Not yet, but I will be when I reach my majority. I can even sit in among the House of Lords in Parliament; in truth, the Potter Earldom is minor compared to some of the other Earls. Traditionally my family has always focused more on the Wizarding World rather than the Mundane one. I'm hoping to do a bit of both, straddle the fence so to speak.

"At this time however, I'm not too worried about it. I've got too many projects going on as it is to worry about it. I plan to go to a Mundane University as well for Business and Politics. I'll start to worry about it when it becomes more pressing." Harry shrugged softly.

That and his first taste of Politics was in less than a week. He intended to go for the Shock and Awe approach and hoped it would pay off. It was a gamble, admittedly, but it was one he was going to take. The Wizarding World was long overdue for a wakeup call.

"I can't believe you're entitled." Hermione said a bit breathlessly, pressing her hand to her forehead.

Harry shrugged. "A fair few students can be considered the upper echelons of society in the Wizarding Society. You're sitting with three. Padme and Pavarti are two more; Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot of Hufflepuff are up there as well." Harry shrugged once more. "Don't treat us any differently Hermione, we're still people, we're still going to school."

It was Millicent who looked surprised this time. "You consider the Bullstrode family to be part of the upper echelon?" she asked.

Harry nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Not as high as say the Longbottom family or the Potter family, but the Bullstrode family is known to have their wealth and they have deep seated roots in English soil."

"Unlike the Malfoy family?" Millicent asked with a slight smirk.

Harry inclined his head. "Unlike the Malfoy family." Seeing Hermione's confused look, he turned to her. "The Malfoy family is generally considered an upstart family, go back what can be considered a handful of generations and you have a French immigrant family. While some of them, such as Abraxas Malfoy have been cunning enough to work side by side with some of the more prominent families, including the Potter family, I still fail to see how Lucius Malfoy had gotten such prominence. He practically Lords over the others of his bloc, and yet he is of only about middle station."

Harry shrugged a moment and decided to start on his book, opening it up and reading it slowly. After some time, he noticed Neville stand up and grab a book out of a side compartment of his trunk. Harry noted that the title was based on something of Herbology, and some advanced work as well.

More advanced than what Harry was capable of doing at the very least. He was good at gardening, but what that book looked like was clearly above and beyond his own skill set.

Because Harry had never really interacted with Neville, Harry did not know he had quite the green thumb. He'd have to watch him, a possible candidate for Famine.

-_Scene Break-_

The excitement was palpable in the air of the Great Hall. Despite it being a school, the students generally were thankful to be back after a break. They were back with their friends, or their friends had returned, and they would soon begin to work in the wonders of Magic once more.

Harry sat with his bag beside him. Of course, he got a few glances from everyone for having his bag with him, but they didn't know about the secondary bag inside, sewn in like a second compartment that was massively expanded.

He had removed the Resurrection Stone and wore it instead around his neck on a simple chain. He didn't want it to be identified by anyone that might know what it was. So on his right hand, middle finger, all that sat was the Potter Heir Ring. He had gotten quite a few looks about that as well, but he was proud to wear it.

He listened as Dumbledore gave his speech for the feast, but it wasn't very long. Just a few words of welcoming back really. But as he finished and sat down, the feast appearing before their eyes, Harry slowly rose to his feet.

He could feel more than a few gazes on him as he made his way towards the Staff Table. Even Dumbledore's eyes had stopped their twinkling, his gaze curious as his gaze followed Harry. Harry walked with his back straight and his head high as he strode to stand in front of Slughorn.

"Professor Horace Slughorn," Harry said loudly and clearly for everyone to hear. He reached into his bag for the intricate wooded box. He placed it upon the Staff Table and removed the lid, revealing a highly polished Golden Locket with a stylized letter 'S' upon it. "Head of House Slytherin, may I present to you the Locket of Salazar Slytherin. May it find a good home, somewhere that will bring pride to the House of the Ambitious and Cunning."

Harry watched as Slughorn raised the locket slowly, fingers fumbling with the chain a moment. "Th-This is..."

-_Open-_ Harry hissed out, gasps and a few shrieks being heard as he did so, but the locket clicked open anyways. Inside was a portrait of Slytherin's two children, a black haired boy and a girl with vibrant red hair.

Harry then stepped past Slughorn, moving to stand before Professor McGonagall. Harry reached into his bag and removed the large box inside. It was the largest of the bunch. Harry placed the long and thin box on the Staff table. "Professor Minerva McGonagall, Head of House Gryffindor," Harry removed the lid carefully. "May I present you with the Blade of Godric Gryffindor. May it find a good home, somewhere that it will bring pride to the House of the Brave and Courageous." Harry said, removing the blade and presenting it to the transfiguration professor, the blade balancing on both hands.

McGonagall, understandably, took the blade by the hilt with shaky hands. She inhaled a bit as she looked to the name etched upon the blade.

If Harry was honest, that blade had been the hardest to get the Goblins to let him keep. It was only by returning any Goblin made object in the Black properties, as well as the Potter properties, as well as returning anything Goblin made from the former Lestrange Vault, coupled with paying a very steep price for the blade, did Harry get to be allowed to keep the thing.

The purchase had pretty much wiped out all the Galleons in the Lestrange Vault.

Though Flitwick was technically next, Harry stepped past the diminutive Professor, turning to stand in front of Professor Sprout. "Professor Pomona Sprout, Head of House Hufflepuff," Harry removed the thickest box from his expanded bag and set it down upon the table. He lifted the lid carefully. "May I present to you the Chalice of Helga Hufflepuff." He removed the cup and held it in his hands carefully so that Spout could grab from the sides. "May it find a good home, somewhere that will bring pride to the House of the Loyal and Hard-working."

Sprout nodded with tears of joy clearly in her eyes as she took the object from his hands. She set it down slowly on the table, tracing the stylized letter 'H' with her finger.

Harry spun on his heel and moved to stand in front of Flitwick. "Professor." Harry said, dipping his head in greeting.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the final box, setting it on the table. "Professor Fillius Flitwick, Head of House Ravenclaw." Harry lifted the lid slowly. "May I proudly present the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw." Harry lifted the diadem from the box slowly and carefully, offering it to his Professor. "May it find a good home, somewhere that will bring pride to the House of the Clever and Intelligent."

Flitwick took the Diadem carefully and bowed his head slightly to Harry. "It will Mr. Potter." He said softly.

Harry spun on his heel and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath and let it out carefully. He began to return to his seat.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, speaking up. "I would like to see you in my office after the feast."

Harry glanced over his shoulder, his green eyes suddenly opened at that admission from the Headmaster. Harry gave a slow nod though. He then turned back towards his table and sat back down. Despite the leaps and bounds he had made in socializing, Harry stayed quiet and distant the entire meal.

When it was over, he stood up and headed for the Third Floor where the Headmaster's office was located. Harry was unsurprised to see Flitwick already there.

Harry smiled a bit to the diminutive Charms Professor. "Professor, I do not think the Headmaster will talk about what he really wants to talk about with you there." Harry said, stepping beside him. "He was publically seen and heard asking for me to meet him in his office, so I do not think he will try anything when it can come back on him so viciously. Besides, I'm certain you need to do a roll call on the 'Claws." He said.

Flitwick looked at Harry firmly. "And I am supposed to be in that meeting with you Mr. Potter." He said in a no nonsense tone.

Harry nodded softly. "I know, and I understand Professor." He said quietly. "But I feel I need to do this alone." Harry said, clenching his hands slightly, digging his fingers into his palms. "I need to know if Dumbledore is a man purposely trying to be manipulative and setting up some sort of Chess board, or if he's just an old man with good intentions that are going to Hell." Harry ran his hands through his hair.

Flitwick watched Harry a while longer. "I will remain here then." He said softly. "You have five minutes, no more, before I enter."

Harry nodded and stepped up to the Gargoyle that quickly sprang to the side. Harry made his way up the stairs slowly. He double checked his cowl under his clothes. If he was honest, he was terrified of being in the room with Albus Dumbledore, terrified of being alone with the man. He had no way of stopping him from casting _Obliviate_ on him, the cowl would stop it, but the fact remained. It would not be hard for Dumbledore to cast a Stunner or slip him a potion instead.

Those the cowl wouldn't offer much protection against. Some, but not much.

Still, Harry knocked on the door and it swung open to admit him, with Dumbledore sitting at his desk. "Ah, Mr. Potter, come in." he said, motioning to the chair in front of the desk.

Harry made his way inside and sat down. Dust gave a slight caw before he stared at Dumbledore, as though already judging the Headmaster.

Dumbledore interlaced his fingers carefully, watching Harry closely. "First, I would like to congratulate and thank you for uniting the Founders' Objects here in Hogwarts. Many of those, like the Diadem, had been thought to be lost forever."

Harry nodded his head. "Thank you Professor and you're welcome. It will be up to the Heads of Houses to decide what to do with them now."

Dumbledore frowned a moment but nodded his head carefully. "I must confess to be… concerned about three of them. A former student had expressed an interest in them when he was here at Hogwarts. Sadly, this student had fallen off the path of good."

Harry watched his Headmaster for a while. There had been no question in that statement. And Harry wasn't going to just start spilling out information to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore licked his lips slightly, clearly having expected Harry to start speaking about where he had found them. He seemed hesitant to speak up regarding the topic. "It has… recently come to my attention, that Voldemort had committed great evils in his path for immortality. I am worried that he had found the objects of the Founders and perverted them in his quest."

Harry still didn't hear the question, but he decided to finally give a bit of input. "Horcruxes." Harry said, biting the word off his tongue, his tone full of rancor and venom. "Vile things, crafted from murdering an innocent without repentance. Tom Marvolo Riddle created such monstrosities. One hidden here at Hogwarts, another in Gringotts, two more in and on my property." Harry said. "The Goblins have been most efficient at destroying the Horcruxes, disenchanting the darkness from the objects. I have gladly witnessed _four_ of the vile things purged from his soul. And yet, inside my heart, I still feel he lives."

Dumbledore leaned back, sitting in his chair. His blue eyes were wide with shock at what he heard.

Harry stood up calmly. Before Dumbledore could regain his thoughts, he turned on his heel carefully. "Take some time Professor to think on what you have heard." He said calmly. "Instead of playing things so close to chest, learn to trust someone else." The Hypocrisy of that statement was not lost on Harry, but he couldn't just delegate to someone else the duties of finding the other Riders.

Dust was the only familiar that bonded to the title of one of the Horsemen. Any other familiars were personal familiars instead, so there would be no help on that end. Harry couldn't ask another witch or wizard to find the Riders, the Four Horsemen, while being heralds of the coming Apocalypse, were also capable of keeping it at bay.

Imagining the likes of Voldemort, breaking his mind and his will until he served the self-styled Lord, keeping Voldemort alive for the rest of eternity caused a shudder to run down Harry's spine. Death had to happen. But he could also stave it off.

He had not sworn a magical oath on it, but he made a promise to himself that he would never keep someone alive when it was their time to die. Even if it meant having a piece of him die when they did, he could not do so.

Harry left Dumbledore's office quietly, stepping down to walk with Flitwick towards the Ravenclaw dorms.

-_Scene Break-_

It was after hours when Harry arrived to the Come and Go room. He pulsed his magic to make himself visible, his Invisibility cloak turning black at his command. Harry inhaled softly as he glanced around the corridor before he removed the knife from the sheath on his left arm.

His Deathly Aura was quite high as well, making sure that no one would be there for what he was about to do.

Mentally, he begged for forgiveness for what he was about to do.

He sliced open his own palm, wincing slightly as the blade dug into his palm. "Helena Ravenclaw, I summon you. Helena Ravenclaw, I call upon you. Helena Ravenclaw, thrice named and thrice called, as the Rider of Death, I call you forth, heed my cry and come to me as Blood and Steel demand!"

The magic was strong in the air, the scent of blood thick and hanging. For a moment, Harry was worried that it would not work. Then from the floor, ten feet away from him, the ghostly visage of the Grey Lady began to rise.

Harry tucked the knife away into its sheath. "Lady Ravenclaw, a pleasure." Harry said as he made his way towards her.

"Skip the pleasantries Pale one." She said sharply, even though her voice was shaky. "Why have you summoned me?" she asked. "Was Cuthbert Binns not enough? Are you such a tyrant that you would have the Ghosts do your bidding?"

"Never!" Harry said passionately. "But I had to ask you something, as the only known descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw. You are the Ghost of my House, Lady Ravenclaw, yet I have never seen you, I have never spoken to you. I have never heard your words of wisdom." Harry looked to her angry eyes.

"There is another student, a Gryffindor student, who would have done well in House Ravenclaw. She is intelligent, if a little overbearing. I would like to give her a copy of one of your mother's journals my Lady." Harry pressed forward, stepping a little closer to Helena. "Just a copy of the Journal my lady, and I would be remiss to just give such a thing out, to even use it without asking your permission first. I would like to be able to use some of the warding schemes in the Journals to better protect my home as well, but if you say no, then I shall drop the matter and allow the knowledge to remain where it is." Harry said.

By the look on her face, Harry thought that the Grey Lady would say no just on pure principle alone. He had used an old ritual to summon her. Technically it was a necromantic ritual meant to summon the dead, especially zombies, but it worked just as well on Ghosts. It was why a name was such a powerful thing to know.

"Just a copy?" Helena asked after a moment. "Not the actual Journal, but a copy of it?" she asked for clarification.

"Just a copy, something simple and she would appreciate." Harry said.

Helena was quiet for a while longer. But eventually she nodded. "Very well, Mr. Potter, you may use my mother's journals. Leave the originals within the Room, but if you can make a copy and translate them, you are welcome to the knowledge within." She offered her hand slowly to Harry, generally a futile gesture really, but a gesture of habit.

Harry however, knew his Deathly Aura was magnificently high at the moment. He took the hand, hearing the gasp from Helena as she felt the seeping cold moving through her skin. Harry dipped his head down and kissed the back of her knuckles. "Thank you my Lady." He said, bowing his head a bit.

Death bowed to no one, not really. But the Dead deserved the utmost respect, even from Death. They would always be bowed to if they were deserving of it.

Harry drew his hood up over his head and quickly disappeared before walking off. He didn't go ten steps before he paused. "My Lady Ravenclaw, tell Sir Nicolas to come find me when I am alone, and I shall see about fully severing his head."

Helena nodded before she began to fully disappear, moving off to wherever it was that the Ghosts went.

Harry quickly headed for his bed so he could get to sleep. It wouldn't do to be late for his first class back.

-_Scene Break-_

Within the castle of Hogwarts, in the Scottish highlands, deep inside the twisting corridors, the stone was damp and wet with frost from the lack of heat to that part of the castle. Past a three headed dog, kept warm by the charms placed upon its collar, past a twisting and winding plant that moved much slower in the winter.

Past a room full of flying keys, with a door sliced open, past a giant stone chess set, prepped and ready for battle, past a massive troll slumbering the night away, having been left there and forgotten for the time being, through two ways consumed with magical fire and into a vast room with a mirror that sat in the center of it.

Events were occurring in that vast room, events that would shape and change the fate of the Wizarding World for centuries to come.

Deep inside the mirror, forged by a Seer and a Genius, things began to stir. Had the genius known what was to become of the mirror, perhaps it would have never been made. If the Seer had been stronger, perhaps they would have been able to fight the compulsion to make it.

The mirror that showed only the deepest desire of those that looked into it, the mirror that perverted the present with images of the past and possible futures, the mirror that was in truth, much more… cracked.

Like a great Dwarven battle hammer being smashed against it, the mirror cracked into a myriad of spider web like designs. And from those cracks, a black, tar-thick substance bubbled out, splatting against the floor with thick plops.

Slowly the ooze began to climb forward, surging towards the magical fire. It paused upon itself, apprehension perhaps going through what little sentience it might have had. Then it surged forward, the fire going out as it was consumed.

Something hungry was loose in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

-End Chapter-

A/N: So… yeah… I've been wanting to write this since last chapter, but the beginning of this chapter had been an absolute bitch. Next chapter will be out as soon as possible, I promise. Much sooner than this one.

Next chapter we have Harry before the Wizengamot, and let me tell you that next chapter I've had planned since Harry's meeting with Ironskull.

Adieu!


	20. Book 1: Chapter 20

_Last Time: Harry enjoys a train ride back to Hogwarts with Hermione, Millicent, and Neville. He presents the Four Founders' Artifacts to their respective Head of Houses. In a meeting with Dumbledore, Harry reveals a little information to the old man. Later that evening, he summoned Helena Ravenclaw with a necromantic ritual to ask her for permission to use her mother's journals. Something appeared within the walls of Hogwarts, something hungry that broke through the Mirror of Erised._

Book One: Death

Chapter 20

It was time. It was time to go before the Wizengamot, something Harry was nervous about. Politics, both Wizarding and Mundane, were a pit of vipers ready to strike. Most Nobles going into Politics had allies going in, older family members that knew the ins and outs of people in the Political ring that could teach them, and they also tended to have tutors in politics and law.

Harry had none of that. Between his physical training which was a must, his studies of magic all but forgotten at Hogwarts, his various businesses, he had very little free time. Worse yet, it was looking to be much like that for some time yet.

It made the Wizengamot Session today all the more important.

He was hoping to hit two or three birds with one stone so to speak.

As he went about his morning rituals, Harry's mind drifted back to his gifting of the presents that he had gotten for various people.

Hagrid had practically broken down and cried when Harry presented his gift to the large man. Despite the decline in political power of the Potter family, they still held sway. A discreet investigation into Hagrid's background, and of course his expulsion, had led Harry to believe the man was innocent. An acromantula would have dragged the girl's body off to be devoured. The fact not a mark was on her told Harry that Hagrid had been framed, and had a dangerous creature in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Finding that out, Harry offered sponsorship to Hagrid, for the big man to get his Mastery in Care of Magical Creatures. Not just Mastery in Britain either, but Mastery on the International Level. A few letters to a few of the members of the Board of Masters and they were willing to at least allow Hagrid an attempt during the summer.

His forty some odd years at Hogwarts, tending to the various animals had given Hagrid the practical experience. The Board of Masters would test his theory and a bit more of the practical, so he had a few months to study up.

Ron had been confused at his present at first. Books, Mundane books at that, had not been his idea of a gift. He had expected something likely more expensive or something that wouldn't require him to read. But then Harry explained the two parts of his gift.

The books were on Bobby Fischer. More specifically, they were on his games and the way he played. Harry explained to Ron, once more, that Bobby Fischer had been a genius at Chess. Harry wanted Ron to read the books, to study them.

The reason came from the second part.

Harry saw something in Ron's chess abilities. Something to be cultivated, to allow to grow and flourish into something spectacular. By allowing that something to atrophy, to wilt and die was unacceptable to Harry. So Harry was going to see it grow and flourish into something that Ron, who felt overshadowed by the achievements of his older brothers, could be proud of.

Harry would sponsor him to enter an International Wizarding Chess Tournament that summer. It was a late summer event also, so they would know Ron's grades before he went off to the Tournament. The grades were important because Ron said he had doubts his mother would let him go, Harry said he would get her to let him go under the stipulation that Ron got at least an Acceptable in everything.

Did either of them expect Ron to win the tournament? Not particularly. But if Ron did well enough, other people would take notice and he would be invited to more tournaments.

Perhaps he was a bad person. He knew that doing both of these, if both Hagrid and Ron did very well, would benefit him and the Potter name quite a bit. But that wasn't the reason he had gotten both of them those things. He essentially got them both something they could want.

Hagrid loved working with animals. If he got a Mastery in Care of Magical Creatures, then he could, legally, set up a small dragon preserve near the borders of Hogwarts. No one was likely to sign off on the permit for the reserve, but Hagrid still could legally do it. He could also apply to be the teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures class.

Ron loved Chess. He of course also loved Quidditch, but Chess was something that he was genuinely good at without a shadow of a doubt. By letting him try for the Chess tournament, he could have something he could be proud of. There were no previous immediate members of his family that had gone on to become a renowned chess player.

Hermione's gift he had stressed the importance of not speaking out about it. He also politely reminded her that it was from a different era, and that the Journal of Rowena Ravenclaw was not something to be squandered. It had the tamest of her magic in its pages, but even still, it had things that could be borderline dark.

Hermione promised that she'd keep an open mind while she read it. Harry also had her promise that she wouldn't try any of the spells inside of it without being in a secure location first. It wouldn't do to hurt someone due to carelessness.

For Kingsley, Harry went ahead and went with the man's obsession with Quidditch. He was quite surprised to find himself in the possession of season tickets to his favorite team. Harry didn't divulge where he got the information from, just that he knew.

Hannah he had gotten a few Mundane medical journals as well as a few books on anatomy. He figured if anyone could make sense of them, it would be Hannah. She would also be able to determine the differences in the Magical Method and the Mundane one, besides the time involved.

Amelia and Flitwick, Harry was still trying to figure out what to get them. Amelia was still a relatively unknown, and Flitwick didn't strike Harry as the type to really need any material object.

Harry glanced over to a windowsill. "Come on." He said, holding his arm out to Dust.

In return, Dust gave a very loud, very sharp caw, fluttering his wings.

"Come on Dust, enough of that. We've been over this." Harry said.

Still the crow gave another loud caw, refusing to move from its perch on the windowsill.

"I will come over there and get you." Harry said. "We both don't want that."

Dust cawed angrily before fluttering over to Harry's outstretched arm. The Potter heir then very carefully moved Dust under a stray stream of the warm water from the showerhead. He began to pet the crow. "We have to make sure you look sharp today. Don't want to give a bad impression." Harry said.

Finally, he set Dust on the frame of the shower stall and cut the water off.

Harry dried himself off and quickly grabbed his clothes from the dormitory. He sighed a moment before he began to pull them on. He couldn't afford a single misstep today. He had to go into the Wizengamot at his absolute best, he had to throw the politicians off.

Harry started with a pair of charcoal slacks. They were Mundane made, tailored to his size. He and the Goblins had gone into Mundane London early on in the break to have them made. They were silk, though not Acromantula silk. The Goblins had decided that, since this meeting would benefit them, that they would make some time to help Harry. He had the rest of the suit that went with the slacks tucked away at Potter Manor. It was not be wise to enter the room of the biggest traditionalists in Britain in a completely Mundane Suit, no matter how expensive or finely made it was.

Next was a dress shirt, this one made of pure unicorn hair. It had been expensive to make, given that weaving Unicorn hair was a very difficult art to master, but it offset the grey of the slacks well. The fact it was also a color and cut that allowed it to go with just about anything was a nice bonus. It would also add a bit of added protection to him from any spells that could be cast at him. The reason why most people didn't wear such a thing was that it was difficult to find anyone to actually make it, but Kreacher had known of a woman that did make them.

Over the white dress shirt, he slipped on a vest made from the hide of a Nordic White. More specifically, he had the vest made from the first shedding of a newborn Nordic White, so the leather actually looked more translucent than white. It had come from the Potter Dragon Reserve in Greenland where they bred and raised the dragons. When they had to do population control on the dragons because they bred too wide spread, they harvested the valuable parts.

His Hungarian Horntail boots from the Ministry Ball were pulled on, the slacks tucked into the boots in a traditional manner. He had quite enjoyed the boots, they were comfortable and very warm. And this meeting, he had a feeling he would be standing for a time.

Lastly was a set of charcoal half length robes that came down to his knees. In truth, it looked more like a duster than a set of robes, but it didn't quite have the cut or bulk. It was made to allow him to maneuver really. The Potter Coat of Arms was on the left breast of the robes. The silk was from an Acromantula colony that the Potter family owned.

The Potters had made most of their wealth from being merchants. But they were also warriors to the core if necessary or called upon.

Harry removed the glamor that gave his hair red tips and slicked it back away from his face.

Dust settled onto Harry's shoulders, and the duo began to move away. Harry paused at his trunk for the summons from the desk of Cornelius Fudge. The Minister had come through for him in the end, managing to get the summons to Harry before Hogwarts had even started back up.

After a moment's of thought, he also pulled on the Dueling gloves that Flitwick got him for Christmas, making sure the gloves were tucked under his robes instead of over. It was generally more polite to have them under. It made it so the person didn't look like they were about to do something… messy.

Harry held his head up high as he headed for Flitwick's office to use his Floo.

-_Scene Break-_

Dumbledore entered into the Wizengamot chamber last. As Chief Warlock, he wanted to give all the Lords and Ladies plenty of time before the session was called to order. He wore a sedate set of crimson flowing robes, keeping them plain of any emblems except for the symbol for his station as Chief Warlock.

He raised the Elder Wand up, feeling the magic swirling through him and the wand before he made a simple blast of sound come out of his wand, drawing attention to him. "I hereby bring this Wizengamot meeting to Order on the tenth of January, year One Nine Ninety Two." Dumbledore said for the Scribe. He then began to go through the roster of the entitled Lords, Ladies, and those who held a seat. It always pained him to hear the deafening silence when he went to those families that were lost for all time.

There was always a slim chance that they could be revitalized by some of the Muggleborn witches and wizards, but due to rulings by the Board of Governors, Hogwarts wasn't able to explain to the Muggleborns many things, including that Gringotts could do a Heritage test.

The Goblin run bank was not exactly pleased about that either. It meant they had stilled gold. And stilled gold did not make a profit.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and his mind a moment. "Does anyone have any emergency business to bring before the Wizengamot?" he asked. During war time, when the Wizengamot actually declared war, that question would be asked before roll was taken. Not a single person spoke up.

Dumbledore nodded, more to himself than anything. "Very well then." He said. "Our first order of business," he glanced to the docket. "Comes from Cornelius Fudge, our esteemed Minister of Magic." He said. He glanced over to Fudge. "Minister, the floor is yours."

Interestingly enough, Fudge was not in a lime green set of robes with a matching bowler hat. Instead, he was dressed impeccably in black. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot." Fudge started off, greeting them. "A matter was brought to my attention that intrigued me, and was to be brought before the Wizengamot. It was felt that I was the best person to get penned into the docket, while another person would present the matter fully. I cede the floor to Harry James Potter, Scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter." Fudge said.

Dumbledore looked up, surprised as the doors swung open. The young heir in question strode in powerfully, his steps measured. Harry's shoulders were squared, and his head held high. Dumbledore could not detect a trace of anxiety coming from the young man. The way he dressed was expensive but tasteful. It was to remind everyone, subtly, that this was the Heir of an Ancient and Noble House.

Harry paused at Fudge. "Minister." He said, greeting the man briefly with a firm handshake.

Dumbledore then watched as Harry stepped towards the center of the floor, looking over the collected Wizengamot slowly, making sure to take in each and every one of them. Dumbledore wasn't sure what his young student was there for, but he had a feeling that Harry was likely to rock the boat some more.

"Members of the Wizengamot," Harry greeted them all. Dumbledore bit the tip of his tongue slightly. That likely wouldn't win over any of the Wizengamot. The Lords and Ladies generally liked having their power and station higher than the other members, meaning they should have been greeted first and separately.

"I come before the Wizengamot with a grim set of news." Harry said, beginning to walk slowly, watching them all. "There have been whispers of War." Blunt and straightforward on the topic at hand, Harry was showing his lack of learning in the realm of politics. "A war that we are ill prepared for." Harry said, speaking up over the whispers happening between the Lords and Ladies.

"The people that would bring us War?" Harry asked rhetorically. "The Goblins." He said.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and bowed his head a bit. That wasn't going to go over well. Sure enough, an eruption of noise began to fill the Wizengamot chambers. Cries about the Goblins, many people calling them 'filthy beasts' began to fill the room. Dumbledore wished that Harry had spoken to him about this, he could have helped Harry more. It would have been easier.

"ENOUGH!" Harry roared out, his aura flaring up and washing over the entire Wizengamot chambers. Dumbledore jerked back in shock and surprise. Ice was coated along the marble floor creeping away from Harry. The entire Wizengamot was chilled and silent.

The oppressive feeling of Harry's aura dipped and the young Heir was now glaring at the Wizengamot. "Your Prejudices are what have brought this upon us all! Many of you believe that because you have a wand you are innately better than those that do not! Some of you believe that because of your family's deeds and titles that you are better than those that do not have such deeds and titles attached to your name!

"We must think on this logically! We are poorly equipped to fight the Goblins. One, they have the majority of our gold beneath their bank. Without that gold, our businesses cannot run, our employees will not work, our people cannot eat!" Harry breathed a bit heavily for a moment from having to shout before he composed himself, evening out his breathing.

"Madam Bones, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, you would know how many Aurors and Hit-Wizards are available." Harry said, glancing up to the woman. "You would also know how many of them are combat trained and ready. Would you mind saying those two numbers?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore turned slightly to look at Amelia as she rose from her seat as Regent Bones. "We have Ninety-two Aurors available, and one hundred and five Hit-Wizards, this includes those that are retired but can be reinstated.." She said. Dumbledore then noticed her lick her lips. One hundred and ninety seven wizards was not a good number, not for law enforcement. "Of those, sixty-one, including myself, are combat trained and ready." Amelia said before sitting down slowly.

Harry inclined his head in her direction. "Less than two hundred Law Enforcement Wizards available. Less than a third of that is trained for pitched combat." Harry said.

"The Goblins have miles and miles of tunnels underneath London. Warriors stand at the ready, trained from a young age to do nothing but fight and be ready for War. We have, to use a Mundane term, a police force. The Goblins have an army." Harry said. "And even if they do nothing but hole up inside of Gringotts, slowly force ourselves to starve and die until we are ready to make peace on their terms, they will still beat us in the long run." Dumbledore watched as Harry's points were slowly sinking in, even in the prejudiced and traditional minds of the oldest of all the Wizengamot members. "Even if we were to storm Gringotts, the enchantments on many of the vaults, the miles and miles of tunnels they could use to flank our people would ensure their victory there.

"But our disadvantages does not end there either, many of our homes are warded with Goblin wards. Some of the older homes have defenses that are wizard made, but the majority of our wards are Goblin made." Dumbledore could see some of the members faces turn paler. Warding magic was indeed difficult magic to perform, and the Goblins were the best to go to for it. Even Dumbledore's home in Godric's Hallow had a few Goblin Wards on it.

Unfortunately, it seemed Harry was unwilling to let his point go until he had driven it home to everyone in attendance. "And let us not forget that Hogwarts, long before it came into the hands of the Founders to turn into a school, was a Goblin Military installation. How do you people feel about the future generation, First years barely learning how to do more than cast sparks, being forced into _your_ war?"

Dumbledore had to give Harry credit. He had a razor sharp tongue and knew exactly where to point it to inflict the most damage. The fact that he had yet to let up on his assault had not given the members of the Wizengamot time to converse amongst themselves.

"What about the treaties? The Goblins wouldn't dare break the treaties." There was some general agreements going about the room. Goblins were known to be honorable, and such a pact as a treaty they would not break.

"Fool!" Harry barked out at the Lord. "We've already broken it a dozen times over. Every single treaty after each of the Goblin Wars, we have sworn to treat them like a Sovereign Nation unto themselves with a direct line, an Ambassador, through the Goblin Liason office once the Ministry of Magic had been formed. We've done the first, barely, but the second we've failed to uphold."

Harry paused at this moment and Dumbledore noticed that the Wizengamot was finally conversing with themselves. While generally he was not to ask questions, he felt that in this case, it would be best. "Heir Potter," Dumbledore carefully started, noticing those sharp green eyes flick over to him. "Why did the Goblins bring this to _your_ attention?" Dumbledore was not trying to undermine the boy or anything. But he wanted to know why Harry, why burden a boy with such grim tidings?

Harry bowed his head a moment, clearly thinking. When he looked up, Dumbledore noticed his resolve harden. "I have met with the High King of the Goblin Nation." There were a few gasps, even a few cries of lies. "I have dined with the High King of the Goblin Nation. My Account Manager Rotgut would be more than happy to confirm that.

"The Goblins are more than willing to go to war, and while the whispers have reached the High King's ears, the truth has yet to. My Account Manager asked me to try and nip the problem at the bud, before it opens fully. So here I stand before you, trying to nip the problem at the bud. The only reason I know of this mockery of our treaties, denying Gringotts their investigation, is because the result of the investigation regards me.

"Make no mistake, I will not be angry if what is perceived as truth is truth. I am not trying, in the slightest, to do this for myself outside of keeping myself out of war. A war that I cannot see Wizards winning. My opinions on the Goblins, and on the matter they are investigating do not equal into this in the slightest." Harry said all of this carefully and calmly, watching the Wizengamot.

Then, from inside his shirt, he slowly withdrew an ornate ring. "I am the Heir to the title of Baron Black of Blackmoor." Harry said as he slid the Heir Black ring on his left middle finger. There were a few mutterings going through the chamber of the Wizengamot. "The Goblins of Gringotts, my Account Manager Ironskull especially, have been in the middle of investigating how this came to be, and have been blocked by the Ministry. Sirius Black, my Godfather, is still the Lord Black despite his incarceration."

There were a few low mutters. The fact Harry was wearing the ring said that he was the Heir Black. And it was only through Sirius Black that he could have been the Heir Black.

Amelia Bones eventually stood up once more. "Heir Potter-Black," she said formally. "Would a copy of the trial transcript prove the guilt of Sirius Black and be enough to strip him of his Lordship as well as appease the Goblins?" Dumbledore knew the woman was a no nonsense type of person. At the moment, Sirius Black was believed to be guilty and would have a trial transcript.

Harry inclined his head. "I believe it would be Madam Bones. The Goblins will then likely chalk it up to a fluke."

"Dawlish!" Amelia barked out, making an Auror near the door jump. "Get down to the Hall of Records and bring me the Trial Transcript of Sirius Orion Black, immediately."

Dawlish snapped off a salute before rushing out. While perhaps not the best Auror available in Dumbledore's opinion, he would do his duty at this time without hesitation.

Harry remained standing a moment longer before he drew his wand. A few quick swishes and slashes and he had conjured a simple wooden chair to sit in. There were more than a few whispers at the advanced form of magic as Harry sat down, tucking his wand away and folding his hands in his lap.

It was nearly thirty minutes before Dawlish came back, breathing heavily, showing he had been running. He took a moment to compose himself. "Madam Bones… there's a problem." Dumbledore watched as Harry turned his head at that phrase, glancing to Dawlish. The Auror swallowed slightly. "There are no records for Sirius Orion Black." He said trying to stand firm. "There are no trial transcripts for when he was thrown into Azkaban at all."

Amelia stood up once more. "Chief Warlock?" she asked, unfortunately having to defer to him for this one given it was a prisoner inside of Azkaban.

But Dumbledore wasn't going to block it. Crouch had told him that Sirius had confessed and was convicted. "Dawlish get Auror Hestia Jones and bring Sirius Orion Black here, immediately!" Dumbledore was quite angry now. Even the darker families of the Wizengamot weren't going to deny the trial. An Heir had been thrown into Azkaban without one.

It could have happened to any of their heirs.

Harry, Dumbledore noted, continued to eerily sit right where he was. He seemed so still and distant. He showed no reaction to the fact that Sirius was going to be there.

After quite some time of the Wizengamot speaking to themselves, Harry stood up and grabbed his chair, moving it to the far side of the room, into the shadows slightly. He sat down in it once more.

Not ten minutes later, the doors opened once more with Aurors Dawlish and Jones escorting Sirius into the Wizengamot, he was bound in chains around his wrists and shackles on his ankles.

Dumbledore noted the man looked rougher. He had a full beard of shaggy hair that seemed to blend in with the matted mop he had on the top of his head. He looked skinny and gaunt, no longer the lean man he once had been. The clothes were thread bare, just barely hanging onto him. And the man looked dirty and grimy.

The Chair was brought in, and Sirius was sat down into it, magical suppression manacles being placed upon him. Dumbledore looked at the nonchalant way Sirius sat in the chair, as though whatever outcome he expected was a sure thing. Dumbledore was saddened to see that one of his favorite pupils had been pushed to the darkness so badly. How could this young man have been swayed to betray his friends?

"Sirius Orion Black," Dumbledore started. "You have been brought here today to receive a fair trial which, due to an investigation, we have been led to believe you have been denied. On the account of betraying the Potter family to the Dark Lord Voldemort, how do you plead?" he asked.

"Not Guilty!" Sirius rasped out. His voice was hoarse, but it was firm.

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped upon him. "On the account of thirteen Murders, twelve Muggles and the wizard Peter Pettigrew, how do you plead?" Dumbledore asked, taking a moment to lick his lips.

"Not Guilty!" Sirius rasped out once more.

"Sirius Orion Black, do you consent to take a dose of Veritaserum to be questioned under the effects for the court?" Dumbledore asked. How wrong could he have been?

"Objection Chief Warlock!" Lord Alexander Flint stood up. "Veritaserum can be blocked using Occlumency and is not admissible in court."

Augusta Longbottom stood up before Dumbledore could say anything. "Occlumency is known to be weakened by prolonged effects of Dementors Lord Flint. I daresay after ten years, any Occlumency on Lord Black's part will be negligible, probably of that of someone just barely hearing of the art, if that even. It would take an experience Healer well versed in the Mental Arts just to help Lord Black build his barriers back up."

"Objection withdrawn." Lord Flint said, sitting down. He glared at the Dowager Longbottom as he did so.

Dumbledore looked down to Sirius. "Lord Black?" he prompted.

"I do consent to taking Veritaserum Chief Warlock." Sirius said.

Dumbledore prompted one of the Aurors nearby to action. He carefully watched as Sirius took the required three drops onto his tongue. "Is your name Sirius Orion Black?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Sirius responded.

"Were you born September 22nd of 1959?" Dumbledore asked. They were basic diagnostic questions.

"Yes." Sirius responded.

"Have you spent the last eleven years in Azkaban?" Dumbledore asked, wording the question exactly how he wanted it.

"No." Sirius said. "I spent ten years and a handful of months."

Dumbledore nodded, the three basic diagnostic questions, two yes and one no, were answered. "You pleaded 'Not Guilty' to betraying James and Lily Potter in 1981. Did you tell Lord Voldemort where the couple was hidden at?"

"No, I couldn't." Sirius said, muttering going about the room quite quickly. "And even if I could, I never would have. I would have died to protect those two."

"Do you know the sort of defenses that surrounded the Potters at the time?" Dumbledore asked. He knew, having helped with a few of them, but needed to ask the question.

"Some basic detection wards coupled with a Fidelius Charm cast by Lily. The Secret-Keeper was Peter Pettigrew." Sirius responded, many mutterings quickly going about the room.

Dumbledore leaned in over his desk slightly. "Why is it then that everyone believed you to be the Secret-Keeper Lord Black?" Dumbledore asked.

"It was a ploy. It would keep Peter safe," Sirius' voice got stronger the more he talked. "We didn't know who to trust, so I was to be a cold trail and Peter would be safe. Unfortunately the rat-bastard went to the maniac after them anyways."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked briefly to the corner of the room where Harry still sat stock still, watching the proceedings as though they didn't involve him in the slightest. Dumbledore focused once more on Sirius. "You pleaded 'Not Guilty' to the charge of twelve murders, eleven Muggles and Peter Pettigrew himself. If you were not responsible, then who was?" Dumbledore asked.

"Peter." Sirius said. "I had chased him down, hoping to bring him to justice for what he did. He shouted out how I betrayed James and Lily. He then used a blasting charm on a gas main, blowing up the street and the Muggles. I had barely drawn up a shield to protect myself from the blast."

"Yet only the left pinky finger of Peter Pettigrew was left after the explosion." Dumbledore said. "Did you attack Peter after the blast?"

"No." Sirius said. "Peter, James, and myself were all unregistered Animagi. Peter cut his own finger off and transformed into a rat, scurrying off into the sewers with dozens more. By the time I was able to get ready to give chase, the Aurors had arrived and taken me into custody."

"Bartimus Crouch says that you confessed to killing James and Lily Potter." Dumbledore began. "Why would he say this?"

"After being taken into custody, I broke down. I remember just sobbing, saying I had killed James and Lily. It had been my suggestion to use Peter as the Secret-Keeper. I was chucked into Azkaban shortly afterwards."

Dumbledore mulled the words over and gave the order for the antidote to be administered. "All those to find Lord Sirius Orion Black 'Not Guilty' on the charges of betraying the Potter Family to Lord Voldemort and twelve counts of murder?" Dumbledore quickly counted the wands being held in the air. "All those who find Lord Sirius Orion Black guilty?" A few wands went up, given the last bit of what Sirius said. "All those that abstain?" A few wands went up, mostly from the Dark sect who did not want to be shown in a bad light.

However the majority ruled. "Lord Sirius Orion Black, you are hereby found Not Guilty on the charges of betraying the Potter Family to a known terrorist, and twelve counts of Murder. Furthermore, due to the negligence of the Ministry of Magic, you shall be awarded ten thousand Galleons for each year you were in Azkaban prison, as well as all medical bills paid for by the Ministry." Dumbledore said. "Due to your own admission of being an illegal Animagus, you are hereby fined ten thousand Galleons and are required to register by the fifteenth of January or face six months in Azkaban Prison."

Dumbledore flicked his wand at the chair that Sirius sat in, the chains falling from his body. The man slumped forward, breathing heavily and sobbing slightly. Murmurs went about the chambers, at least until Harry stood up once more.

The only sounds were from Sirius crying into his hands, thankful that he was free as Harry moved to step up just beside Sirius. "Members of the Wizengamot," Harry started, getting Sirius to snap up and look to Harry with wide eyes. "I do believe that the Goblins shall find this answer to their queries acceptable enough to avoid all out war.

"Before I part, I wish to offer a word of advice, based upon what my Account Managers have told me. The Goblins are always willing to go to War, to fight and battle and spill the blood of their enemies until it runs through the streets. But if there is a more profitable venue available, they will take it… for a time. The Magicals of Britain bring a lot of profit through Gringotts, but not enough to stay their axes forever. I was asked to speak with you because they wanted a more profitable ending to their queries, instead of bloodshed on both sides." Harry's words were like icy water being thrown upon all of them.

Sirius stood up, turning to face Harry with tears in his eyes. For a moment, Dumbledore was worried. He couldn't quite put his hand on what it was, on why he thought that way.

But those fears were unfounded. Harry wrapped his arms around Sirius and just held him close for a moment. Sirius wrapped Harry up in a tight hug, desperate hug.

Harry released Sirius and then helped the man begin to leave the Wizengamot chambers.

Dumbledore heard whispers go abound, questions of what to do being bounced around. But he blocked them all out as he was deep in thought. How many things had he missed over the years because he had other duties he needed to attend to? How many events like what happened with Snape and Sirius had passed under his nose?

Eventually he stood up and a hush fell over the Wizengamot chamber. "A gross injustice occurred ten years ago." Dumbledore said slowly. "The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time, Bartimus Crouch, had told me that Sirius Black had admitted to the crimes and Barty had just put Sirius in Azkaban without a trial.

"Today has been yet another example of what I have been told many times over the years by many people. I am stretched too thin with my duties of all my offices." Dumbledore said and took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. "Effective immediately, I am stepping down as both Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump." He said, feeling the magic that had entered him as he swore into both offices leave him.

"I recommend either Amos Diggory or Augusta Longbottom as my replacement for Chief Warlock. Both are fair and will follow the letter of the law in its entirety." Dumbledore spoke. "Teaching has always been my calling, and as such I shall dedicate my focus to Hogwarts. However, should the next Chief Warlock need assistance, I will be an owl away." Dumbledore then stepped down from the box he sat at, and left the Wizengamot behind.

How many more mistakes would he have made had he stayed? How many had he already made? Such thoughts constantly swirled in his mind.

-_Scene Break-_

Hunger. The sensation gnawed at it, consumed it.

The fire had been exquisite. The black tar like substance flowed over the floor, black and purple flames dancing along its surface, glinting off of broken glass absorbed into its mass. The fluids contained within the bottles had been difficult to process, even a little painful, but as with all things it was consumed.

It wasn't enough though.

It was still so hungry. It was just barely aware. It had tried to consume the stones around it, but that had been impossible. It couldn't wrap around it, it couldn't engulf it. But it had made some headway. It was aware, as limited as its conscious was.

So hungry.

It could feel something close… Food. Delicious, glorious food.

It surged forward into the next room. A large mass was in the room, its life force strong. The black tar surged at it, quickly covering over it. The flames licked at the creature's leather like skin, eating through it until blood spilled out.

It surged upwards as the creature thrashed, clawing at its skin to remove it. It screeched again in absolute agony, before it was silenced as its mouth was filled with its glorious presence. It filled the creature until the creature's belly ruptured, its nostrils bled out its form, and the eyes began run with its form.

A massive mountain troll, deep inside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, placed as a protector, was quickly engulfed and consumed, its brute strength and size and magically resistant skin absolutely nothing against the hungry predator.

-End Chapter-

A/N: So yeah, most of this chapter I've had up in my head since the beginning. A few things were added here and there, but this is the finished product. We still have about four chapters to go. Five at most, three at the very least.

HBW, signing out.


	21. Book 1: Chapter 21

_Previously: Harry has made some waves in the Wizengamot, forcing everyone to face irrefutable truths. Sirius Black was acquitted of his crimes and is on the road to recovery. Something continues growing beneath Hogwarts._

Book One: Death

Chapter 21

Harry sat in the Great Hall for lunch on a Saturday. It was about mid-January, forcing many students to remain indoors. Though a great many still went out and enjoyed the snow while they still could of course, the majority remained inside, with Harry being among them.

Harry glanced up from his food as Ron sat down across from him, sulking as he did so. Harry arched an eyebrow as Ron started setting up the chess board, drawing the pieces and board from his bag.

Harry wiped his hands from the crumbs from his BLT sandwich. He took a moment to wipe his mouth as well with a napkin before he began to address the youngest Weasley male. "What's wrong Ron?" he asked. He wasn't going to deny a quick match to help Ron out of his funk.

"Just been thinking." Ron said as he made the opening move.

Harry thought on his move for a moment. "What about?" he probed before making his move, looking to play aggressive and opening by moving a knight out.

"Well…" Ron seemed hesitant, his reluctance to ask for help showing through. Ron was an extremely prideful individual, stemming from always having to stand in the shadows of his five older brothers. "I like Quidditch." He said as he made his move. "And I want to play for Gryffindor Team, and eventually join the Canons."

Harry nodded slightly. "Ambitious." He said as he continued moving his pieces, looking to keep his king well-guarded. "How do you plan to go about it?" he asked.

Ron noticeably relaxed. "Well, that's why I wanted to come to you. I have a general plan, but I'm hoping you could offer some input. I play Keeper." Ron said, giving some background information. "Wood plays Keeper, and his last year will be my Third Year. So I'm thinking of trying out my Fourth Year with whoever is Quidditch Captain that year. Talent scouts from all over Europe watch the various schools play, it's why the matches are so spaced out, and it keeps the players in peak physical condition to play.

"So I try out Fourth Year when Gryffindor will be down a Keeper, and I like to think I'm good enough to make it. From what I've been able to tell, the other First Years really have no interest in Quidditch. I figure the next captain will be either Angelina Johnson or Alicia Spinnet, one of the older Chasers. They'll be Captain Fourth and Fifth year, and I'm thinking with Katie Bell only having one year left at that time, Professor McGonagall will make me Quidditch Captain.

"I'm thinking that by playing my last Four years, and probably captaining my final two, I might be noticed by the Canons. Their Keeper is absolute pants at the position." Ron said. "From there it's just a matter of working towards gaining seniority with the team."

The plan was so full of holes; Harry had a momentary lapse of judgment that lost him a Knight in the process. "Your plan has a lot of holes in it." Harry said bluntly and to the point. "It is contingent upon you making the team, something that is a 'Maybe' at best, instead of 'Probably'." However, the plan had a solid foundation, and it did show some thought and care behind it, so Harry wasn't going to blast it out of the water just yet.

"Captains have to maintain a minimum of an Exceeds Expectations in all of their classes." Harry pointed out. "Even before they're considered for the Captaincy, so starting next year, I would start applying yourself to your classes more. If you can show consistent work instead of dragging yourself up towards when you get something in return, you'd be that much more eligible for the position of Captain."

Ron took a moment to get some ink, a quill, and a parchment, writing it down quickly. He then made his next move, starting to play with a little bit more enthusiasm at being helped out. He paused a moment. "How do you know that though?" he asked.

Harry shrugged slightly. "Roger Davies is attempting to draft me for Quidditch, preferably a Chaser Position. I've been declining each time, but he's still full of information regarding the sport." Harry said. He just wasn't interested in Quidditch, and he had seen the asinine amount of practice that Davies put the Ravenclaw team through. He didn't have that additional time yet.

"My second point," Harry decided. "Is that you're hoping too much to be able to get the position during your Fourth Year. What happens if it isn't until your Fifth? Or your Sixth? Then you've wasted a great deal of time, and you're going to get your hopes up. Just because there is not a First year right now that has no interest in Quidditch, it does not mean there isn't an Older Student that's waiting for their shot, or that a younger student won't come in and scoop the position up from in front of you."

Ron looked extremely put off by that statement, eyes wide and he was practically threatening to panic. "What should I do then?" he asked.

"First," Harry began. "Remember that no matter how good you can get, there will always be someone better than you. This will help you push yourself. It doesn't matter if it's sports, if it's chess, or if it's academics, or even your eventual job Ron. Someone will be better than you. It's a hard sentiment to accept, but it's a necessary sentiment to accept. You won't feel beaten down when someone does better than you."

Ron nodded, quickly jotting everything down that Harry was saying. It was very clear that he was worried about it. "Anything else?" he asked, sounding like a desperate man holding onto a lifeline.

"You need to start early. Get a jump on things. Borrow a broom from Fred or George and get out there and practice with them. Have them throw the ball at you." Harry said. He thought a moment and stood up. "Come with me." He said.

Ron scrambled to stand up as Harry moved over towards the table of scarlet and gold. Harry moved over towards where he saw Oliver Wood and he took a seat across from the older student. In his attempt to convert Harry, Roger had pointed out the other captains, so Harry knew who to look for.

Wood glanced up from whatever he was working on in a black leather bound notebook. "Can I help you?" he asked, closing the notebook slightly. It was well known that the notebook was what Oliver kept his Quidditch Plays inside.

"Perhaps." Harry said, making room for Ron to sit down. "I have no interest in Quidditch, I'm certain you've heard this." Harry said, watching Wood narrow his eyes slightly, like Harry had just insulted his mother. "However, Ron here," Harry lightly clapped Ron's shoulder. "Does like Quidditch. Fancies himself a bit of a Keeper, a position that is filled so long you're captain."

Wood nodded slowly. "Another Weasley huh?" he asked, noticing Ron's bright hair. "Any good at being Keeper?" Wood asked, tucking the notebook away after a moment.

"I-I like to think so." Ron said a bit meekly.

"Gryffindor will be in need of a new Keeper after you leave." Harry said, clasping his hands on the table slightly. "Here's what I propose, you help build Ron up to be your replacement. He works around your schedule, perhaps also bring him on as a Reserve. If you get incapacitated during a game, he can take over instead of leaving the goals wide open."

"Got a broom Ron?" Wood asked, glancing over to the redhead again.

Ron mumbled something, his face flushing scarlet, going all the way to his ears.

"He will, for the time being he will have to ask for a loaner from someone likely one of his brothers." Harry said confidently. He noticed Ron's eyes look up, glancing to Harry with wide eyes.

Wood nodded, glancing back to Harry. "I'd recommend a Cleansweep Five. Good for Keeper work, has a wide tail end. Not the fastest broom in a straight away, but it's responsive. Though, if he can get a Cleansweep Six that comes out this summer, that would be better."

Harry tucked the information away. Ron's birthday was coming up, and while it may have been a bit of an expensive birthday present, Harry was willing to reward the ambition that Ron was working towards. Ron even had a plan to go about it.

Wood nodded a bit more. "Yeah, I like this." He said, getting a bit more enthusiastic. "Ron, I'll talk to you more about it back in the common room. We can set up some practice time after I check my schedule a bit more." It was OWL year for Wood after all.

Harry nodded and stood up. "Thank you for your time Mr. Wood." He said before nudging Ron to get him out of his surprise. The two then moved back to their Chess game, with Ron still showing his surprise.

"Harry, where am I to get a broom?" Ron asked, almost panicking.

"You let me worry about the broom Ron; for now, focus on your studies and the eventual practice." Harry said. He could pay for it without having to tap into any of his family's funds or the yearly trust fund he got.

After having spoken with Sirius regarding the families' finances, even if Sirius had no say in the Potter finances, Sirius simply asked Harry to continue to do the work. Sirius stated he had no talent when it came to seeing money making opportunities, so Harry quickly decided he would remain dealing with all the finances. Sirius was paying Harry an additional amount of money from his own cut of the profits for Harry to do so.

So Harry would be able to buy a luxury item like a broom, even if it wasn't an expensive one. A Nimbus cost a thousand Galleons. The Cleansweep wouldn't even be that much. It would be for someone like Ron and his family, a purchase like that would make money tight.

Harry noticed that their Chess game was slowly winding down and he frowned a bit. He was _beating_ Ron. Not that such an event struck Harry as an impossibility, but it just felt strange that he was _winning_. Ron was making sloppy mistakes that the boy really shouldn't be making.

"What's eating you Ron?" Harry asked as he put Ron into check. The bait for Checkmate was very clearly there. If Ron took Harry's queen, it was game over.

Ron ran his hand through his hair. "Well…It's Scabbers, my pet rat." He said honestly. "He's missing, and I don't know where he went. He's been in my family for a several years."

Harry wished momentarily that he knew who Pestilence was. Pestilence was in tune with things like rats and insects, Plague carriers. She would have been able to summon Scabbers to her with relative ease. The castle was entirely too large for Harry to send out Dust to look for the rat.

Ashes had gotten a rat the other day, but Harry decided not to say anything regarding that either. No need to give the possibility that Scabbers had been eaten.

Harry decided to try a different tact. "You said Scabbers has been in your family for a long time?" he asked.

Ron nodded. "I wasn't even talking before Percy found Scabbers out in the garden." He said.

So a very old rat, that gave Harry a possibility. "Well… that seems like a long time for a garden rat to live." Harry said, trying to be tactful, even if he wasn't always successful. "Perhaps it was simply his time and he went to find a quiet and comfortable place to do so."

Ron nodded slightly. "Yeah, you might be right. I'll have to write Mum and Dad." He seemed resigned about that, but he began to turn the chess match around.

Harry had never seen the thing before. Had he, he might have connected the dots. Peter Pettigrew had escaped Hogwarts.

-_Scene Break-_

It was February Eighth when Harry slipped into the Room of Requirements. He had been neglecting a part of his training. He had been having entirely too many projects going on in order to properly devote his time to the training necessary and the pains that would come with it.

And given that this had to do with his duties as Death, as well as one of his artifacts, he couldn't do it just anywhere.

The room took on the appearance of just a large spacious area with thick mats down on the ground like what might be used at a martial arts dojo. Harry moved to the center of the area and sat down, crossing his legs as he commanded the Harvester to his hands.

The young Potter Heir placed the Harvester in his lap so that it extended out to either side, with the bladed part going towards his arm. He lightly ran his fingers over it, breathing in deeply. This was not going to be a pleasant experience.

The very long line of Pale Riders generally did not have the time to Master the Scythe and all its functions. How could they when it could take many forms? Thus, a work around had been devised. The Harvester was Sentient, and more to the point it remembered with perfect clarity.

Harry closed his eyes slowly; lowering is Occlumency Shields and reaching out mentally to the Harvester. It could imprint its memories into the Pale Rider at the time. It would give them the experience necessary to use the deadly weapon without killing themselves in the process.

Harry felt a flash enter into his mind. The earliest memory. It was long ago, in a craggy area of mountains. Rain beat down upon him as he struck at the rocks, looking for the small creature that darted around. Lightning flashed in his face and his body recoiled. His jaws opened wide and poison spat from his mouth.

He was the Harvester before it had been turned into a weapon.

Harry jerked back, his shields slamming into place and his hand releasing his scythe. He reached up, the blood dripping from his nose telling that the process was not quite as clear cut and dry as he had hoped.

Just behind his eyes, he had a ghost of a memory, a memory that didn't belong to him. But so far he had not received anything that he could practice with and so he would have to go back in.

Looking to the scythe, apprehension filled Harry. It was not a pleasant thought to have. Even still, he opened up to the scythe and grabbed it once more, images flowing through him.

He had a long ways to go.

_-Scene Break-_

March twenty-first found Harry sitting in the Great Hall. For once, his ever present books, parchments, quill and ink were not present. Instead, he held a small paperback book, slightly worn, in his hands opened as he read.

It was not a thick tome like a text book; it was not a leather bound finance book that was constantly being updated. It was just a simple paperback, slightly folded over itself to keep the cover from showing. He was quite enraptured with the book.

However, a slight huff and a heavy book thumping across from him caused Harry's eyes to slowly slide up to look at Hermione who was sitting down with a slightly annoyed look on her face. His eyes soon returned to his book. "Is there something I can help you with Hermione?" he asked.

"Our end of the year exams are right around the corner and not one of my friends is studying! Are you even prepared Harry?" she asked quite sharply and sounding rather cross.

Harry felt amusement roll through him. Given his muted emotions, the fact it took a great deal of will power to not just bust out with a gut wrenching laugh said how amused by that statement he was. Even still, he couldn't stop the chuckle as he flipped the page, turning his book in his hands. "With all due respect intended Hermione, I'm very prepared. Even right now I'm preparing."

Hermione perked up at that. "What are you reading then?" she asked. She clearly was hoping for something informative and helpful towards his end of the year exams.

Wouldn't she be sorely disappointed when she found out what he was really reading?

Still, there was no need not to rile her up a little bit. He couldn't help it. It was like poking an already shaken bees' nest with a big pointy stick. It was a monumentally stupid idea but curiosity took ahold before rationale did. "A book." Harry said simply. "You know, with words and such."

Harry had never before seen a witch so angry, but if Hermione thought she'd be able to run his life of when he studied and didn't, then she was sorely mistaken. No one would rule his life, he would take things under advisement, but at the end of every decision it was his decision to make. "What's the book about?" Hermione asked her tone even more irritable than it began with.

"Stuff." Harry said, much to the amusement of the nearby 'claws. While Hermione, being an intelligent young witch, had a lot of respect in the House of Blue and Bronze, they did not like her demanding and controlling attitude at the moment, especially since it was aimed at one of their own.

"What sort of stuff?" Hermione asked, her tone indicating she was threatening to blow.

"Stuff about stuff dealing with the stuff." Harry said, reading more of his book.

"Fine, since you obviously don't care about your grades, I won't either." Hermione barked, standing up.

Harry sighed. While it had been entertaining, it was time to run damage control. "Sit down Hermione. To make you feel better, you can ask me twenty questions; in return I will ask you twenty questions, alternating back and forth."

Hermione looked almost giddy as she sat back down. Her first question was about Potions, obviously thinking it was Harry's weakest point.

Instead, Harry answered it, and then some, giving her information that wouldn't be covered until second year.

Seeing she hadn't pulled the proverbial punches when asking questions, he decided he wouldn't either. He asked questions regarding the use of Illusion magic alongside Potions, focusing more on the beginning Potions in question.

And that was how it went. She asked questions that a particularly gifted student, such as herself or Harry, would ask. Harry of course got these correct, giving answers that would fulfill an essay question regarding the questions she asked.

Harry's questions took a truly studious student to be able to answer. Hermione managed to answer several of them, there was no doubt she was studious enough to look for books on vague arts in how they can be used in the majority of the classes taught at Hogwarts. It would net someone extra points on an essay to answer with references towards alchemy and conjuration, but Hermione's answers were incomplete by themselves and would have needed time to research them.

He was certain if he gave her an essay involving his twenty questions and said it was due in ten days, she would have it to him in seven with Outstanding level work, but off the top of her head she just didn't know as much.

Perhaps it was mean and petty of him to flaunt his knowledge like that. But Hermione's controlling behavior needed to be culled quickly. He likely saved her future husband a lot of heartache in the future if he managed it.

"Now then, now that I have proven I am fully capable of studying on my own and capable of passing my end of Term exams, would you like to know precisely what I am doing and how it is helping me prepare?" he asked her in a more gentle tone. It wouldn't be a good thing he sent her off running in tears.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking a little lost and worried.

Harry closed his book after marking his page and held up the front. "I'm relaxing." He had been reading the second book to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series. He noticed her confused look, both at the book and at the activity. "I've spent most of my time since September working on business, learning, and generally taking very little time for myself. Exercising is a great stress relief, but given how I exercise there is a general sense of danger involved so I must always be alert and vigilant." And that was saying nothing of his extracurricular activities regarding the Horcruxes.

"By just sitting here, eating lunch and reading, I'm taking a moment to let myself relax. No thinking about my finances and how to keep my money for generations to come, no thinking about what branch of magic I'd like to study and learn from, nothing about how I'm doing in my classes. At this point you and I have done all we can to prepare for the End of Term exams. At this point, studying should just be upkeep, not trying to memorize every little fact, every little date, and every little thing.

"By relaxing, reading the Guide, I'm not going to risk a panic attack later. I can walk in confident and relaxed; you're much more likely to forget something important if you're having an anxiety attack." Harry said, setting the book down on the table. "You're a brilliant witch Hermione, top tier of our class easily, but if you don't take some time to yourself and manage your time properly then you will burn out."

From his bag, he drew the first of the Guide's series and slid it over to her. Given he was working on the second one; he didn't need to read the first one. "Take your time and read that Hermione, don't devour the story, but live the story for a few hours. It's a lovely Saturday afternoon already Hermione, just blot everything out and enjoy the story."

"I've read this before." Hermione said, picking up the book. "I didn't expect to see it in a Wizarding School though." She glanced up at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "What can I say? I do like to read." He opened his book back up and continued to read. He glanced up to see Hermione opening to the first page and he smiled lightly. Hopefully his friend would learn to relax a little bit.

-_Scene Break-_

March Twenty-eighth found Harry in the Room of Requirements once more, working up a sweat. He slashed at the air with the Harvester, twirling through the movements that he saw in the memories, given to him by the weapon.

It was currently in whip form, slashing through the air with harsh cracks.

He couldn't put as much dedicated time to train with the Harvester as he wanted. And he knew, at the moment, he was too slow and too weak with it. He would not become a Master of it overnight. His muscles burned as he did the work without complaint though. He had plenty of Pale Riders to learn from.

So far, he had only made it past five sets of memories with each Rider using the Harvester as a whip with a short sword at their side.

He stumbled slightly, his feet tripping over one another. He ended up flat on his face, breathing heavily. Harry let the sweat drip from him for a moment before he rolled himself onto his back, panting slightly.

He pushed himself up to his feet. There was no rest to be had, not if he was going to become the best he could. And he needed to be the best he could be if he had any hopes of surviving.

-_Scene Break-_

April eleventh found Harry enjoying something he had been meaning to do for quite some time. It was nice being able to have some down time really. He sat on a log, just inside the Forbidden Forest, watching the creatures he had loved ever since he first laid eyes upon them.

Thestrals, they were beautiful in their macabre sense. And they were rather docile, despite what some stupid wizards might think.

Harry had accompanied Hagrid into the Forbidden Forest, enjoying the brief moment of respite, to be able to just enjoy himself once in a while. And he very dearly enjoyed himself around the Thestrals.

He smiled at one of the foal and moved over to it. He gently kneeled down beside the carcass that it was eating on with the other Thestrals. He reached to the blood thing and tore off a long, ragged chunk of meat. Hagrid had said the animals he was feeding the Thestrals had been either cows or pigs.

He wasn't sure which this one had been.

He held up the chunk of meat to the foal and watched it take a step back. But Harry was patient. He had no reason to be afraid. Thestrals were intelligent creatures and he genuinely did not mean the young foal any harm. The Thestrals would be able to pick up on that if he was patient enough.

He felt the slightly sharpened teeth lightly nip at his skin as the Thestral began to eat from his hand. He smiled brightly, giving a soft laugh as the foal also began to lick his bloodied skin. It had a slightly roughened tongue. "Hehe, that tickles." He said, reaching up and petting its head slowly.

The thing gave a low, pleased sounding keen in its throat as he pet it slowly and gently. It felt like he was petting soft, worn leather. Despite the almost reptilian appearance, the Thestral did not have any scales.

He should have come out to see the Thestrals much sooner, but he had been too busy during all the times that he tried. He had heard Hagrid mention a few things about the Thestrals of Hogwarts being the only domesticated herd in all of Britain, but Harry wondered if he could get some for the Potter Estate.

Harry carefully stood up, walking towards one of the other Thestrals. Hagrid had said this one was the oldest of Hogwarts. And Harry could believe it to be honest. It was bigger than the others, standing taller. Its body was a little gaunter from its age. Its body showed rough scars, likely from where it got into a fight with the other Thestrals or protecting the other Thestrals. Its leather like wings were torn in places and its right eye was milky, the left being missing completely.

It was being specially fed from a trough filled with blood and ground meat. Hagrid said it couldn't eat too well, having lost most of its teeth in its advanced age.

Harry estimated the creature to be about a hundred years old. Thestrals could live as long as a wizard, so a hundred years wasn't unheard of for the creatures. Hagrid's book regarding them had been a godsend really, it was full of absolutely fascinating information on Thestrals.

Harry knew this Thestral was completely aware of his incoming presence. He didn't bother trying to hide it after all. Hagrid warned that this particular Thestral was dangerous, aggressive even towards the half-Giant. But Harry wasn't scared, not of such a magnificent creature.

Still, its long head rose from the trough, elongated snout dripping with blood as it turned its head to look at Harry, silently judging him. Just because it was blind, Harry did not take that to mean it could not see in a way that mattered. He had even paused as it raised its head.

Eventually, it lowered its snout back to the trough and continued eating, its neck muscles flexing as it swallowed the bloody mix.

Still Harry stepped closer to the Thestral. It was perhaps not the safest course available, but he truly believed he wouldn't be hurt by the Thestral. He was almost within reach of the magnificent creature. He was momentarily surprised by the Thestral throwing both wings back, its impressive wing span equaling over twice Harry's height in length.

He noticed that though its snout was in the trough, the Thestral had paused, clearly testing him still. However, that one visible eye closed slowly and the neck began to flex once more, drinking up the bloody mix offered to it. Its wings slowly came back down.

Harry took a tentative step forward, his hand coming up slightly. Considering he was about even with its shoulder, he decided against just petting it on its neck. Carefully, he began to pet its side. He smiled softly, letting out a small 'heh' when he felt the thin almost translucent hair on it. It would seem the Thestrals got hair along their bodies as they got older.

Harry smiled and continued to gently pet it. At one point, he splayed his hand on its side, feeling the steadiness of its heart beating. He could tell the Thestral would still have a few more years left in it. It was strong, unyielding.

Harry moved his petting to the creature's neck. He felt the strong muscles there as it swallowed at its food. "You are quite the handsome Thestral still, aren't you?" he asked softly. There was a sense of familiarity as he pet the Thestral, but he couldn't explain it either.

Hearing Hagrid call to him, saying it was time for them to go brought Harry out of his musing before he could properly come to a plausible hypothesis. As Harry began to leave, he chanced a glance back over his shoulder at it.

It came to him as the Thestral looked up to the howling wind. The Thestral was an elemental inside animal form, whether trapped or not was debatable, but the fact remained. That particular Thestral was head and shoulders stronger than any that might come its way.

How very fascinating.

-_Scene Break-_

May Second and Harry was practicing with his weapon inside the Room of Requirements once more. He spun it around on his palm, stepping back as he did so and sweeping the butt of the scythe up as though he was parrying a sword strike.

A side step back saw the Harvester transforming into a spear and thrusting forward, before becoming limp and Harry lashing it through the air.

He had finally gotten through to where some of the Riders had experimented with the Harvester, turning it into a multi-tool for Death. He was running drills now to try and increase his speed and handling of the weapon in all of its forms.

It was a harder exercise than he had thought it would. Having run for years, he had endurance to keep going and going, but that did not mean he had the endurance to do weapon work for long. He had to practice it; he had to keep it focused.

And focus he did.

He was blindfolded, allowing his sense of sight to not interfere with his work. The Harvester played the memories, memories from the perspective of the Pale Riders now. More importantly, it played their fights in which they used the Harvester.

Harry was bodily following those fights. If the memories got ahead of his performance, the Harvester would cut them off. The nosebleeds had thankfully stopped as Harry got accustomed to the memories and experience inside of his own head. Having them already, the Harvester just drew them to the surface now.

It was a lot safe and dealt a lot less trauma due to some form of backlash.

Harry scoffed as he stopped mid-swing as his vision was filled with black once more. He snarled and kicked the ground before relaxing himself, breathing heavily. He was still too slow!

He set himself back in the ready stance, exhaling slowly as he did so. It wouldn't be a good thing to get angry. He just had to keep working at it. He gave the mental command for the Harvester to begin again.

-_Scene Break-_

He flexed his new fingers, each one cracking slowly as he shifted his body. Oh how wonderful it was to have a body once more! It had taken entirely too long to consume the Troll however. There had been so much damage done to the creature in the process of it being consumed.

No matter.

He had a body once more and a body it was! He stood nearly the full height of the troll. It had been a little over twelve feet in height, and he stood ten of that. His body was streamlined, not having the bulkiness of the troll, despite having broad shoulders. His hands ended in sharp claws, done in a bright crimson color.

His right arm suddenly bulged and he could feel materials moving through it, passing down to his hand to form a sword out of the roughened metal bits that the troll had used as armor. He gave the rough broadsword a few experimental swings before he slammed it into the stone floor.

His body was naked, though sexless even if among his species he was considered a male. There was not a single hair to be found on his entire body, bald the entire way across the inky black flesh. Magically resistant flesh at that! Consuming the troll had been a great boon! He would have to explain to The King when He appeared on this plane. The Trolls would have to be kept and bred for the young to consume.

Such news would undoubtedly bring him up to the ranks of one of The King's Hand.

He ran both hands over his head, running them back over the bone white horns that had black fire burning between them. Oh he couldn't wait to summon The King! He would take his place, work his way up the ranks to become The King's Second, an honor that had been held by the same individual for thousands of years. But he, he would take that honor. He had magically resistant skin, and thanks to those two fires he was even strong against Fire, his people's natural weakness.

Maybe when he unlocked this plane, he would do so wearing the Pale One's equipment, showing his triumphant success, especially as he presented the Pale One's head to The King.

Oh it would glorious.

He took a step forward, frowning just a moment. At the same time, he felt entirely too light weight but also slow. It was… vexing. He punched the air, gusts of wind ripping past him as he did so. He flexed his hand again. He was too light… Ah… he no armor on this form. He was so used to his bulky carapace.

Well, he would have to rectify that soon, before his mutative abilities were forever dormant once more.

But the… slowness… That was truly maddening. His body was too dense and it was not as though he could simply shrug off some mass. He would be utterly destroyed in combat against one of The King's Hand if he fought them as he was.

Perhaps he would find something that could assist him. The Pale One's horse sounded like a good idea. It was the Wind after all.

His steps took him to the door and he cut it down with his sword, feeling the wood give way under the sheer force. He was prepared to fight when he saw several large figures in the room, bringing his sword up into both hands.

Yet he found himself pausing. It was a room filled with marble statues. He scoffed at himself for the paranoia. He was suppressing his power so the Pale One could not find him just yet. He would fight the Pale One on his terms, not the Rider's.

He lowered his blade and moved forward. He licked his lips slightly, finding himself slightly peckish still. He grabbed the white one with the crown, yanked it back despite its sudden flailing. He yanked its head off, dust dropping in the air as he gripped the head. His maw opened impossibly wide with razor sharp teeth and he sank them into the stone, tearing a chunk away.

He chewed slightly before swallowing. He watched as the skin upon the back of his left hand bubbled before taking on an ivory appearance as a hard stony armor began to form. It wasn't much, needing more.

He turned a hungry gaze to the rest. If he was eating the Wind, he could afford to have some heavier armor.

The Pale One would die soon enough.

-End Chapter-

A/N: Sorry guys, this chapter was mostly filler and I apologize about that. However, Book 1: Death has only a few chapters left to it before I draw it to a close.

Here's my question to all of you, should I just continue the story in the same story so you all don't have to favorite and follow the new one, or should I separate them out? Let me know in a review or in a PM what you guys think.

If I don't get any response in the slightest, I'm just going to continue the story in this same story.

HBW


	22. Book 1: Chapter 22

_Last Time: A whole lot of filler_

Book 1: Death

Chapter 22

He pushed towards the next room. He had not anticipated that the statues of marble cast in Ivory and Ebony would fight back as he began to consume them. Of course, in the end it didn't matter if they had fought back. It hadn't hurt him anyways.

And he was the proper weight once more, the heavy stone giving him plenty of additional weight, once again making him feel armored. He had sacrificed a little of his speed to have the armor, but soon he would be unstoppable.

The King would reward him well, he just knew it.

He glanced upwards in anticipation, looking for a way out of this series of rooms. What he saw made him frown slightly. Instead of there being a way out, there were hundreds of keys. Winged keys at that… Hmm… That gave him an idea.

He glanced over his shoulder, frowning momentarily at the lack of a tactical advantage. He had been saving it for the Pale Rider's horse, yet…

There was nothing that said he could not have both.

The inherit lightweight of the keys would also likely make him faster. So, he moved towards one of the large pillars and climbed his way up, claws digging into the stone as he went. His broadsword was held against his back by tendrils of his own body.

He held himself against the massive pillar and held himself there. He was a hunter, and patience was in his very nature. He waited, marking his target with his eyes. He leapt soon enough, grabbing two handfuls of the keys and coming to crash to the ground.

The wings flitted against his hands, the keys struggling to escape. The other keys, having been flying at random all began to turn his direction. He took a bit of the keys in his right hand, his teeth grinding through the metal and the wings until he swallowed. He shuddered at the power flowing through him.

The keys began to slam futilely against him. In fact, his form seeped through the cracks of his armor, even making a few to do so to grab at the keys and draw them in, despite the flapping and writhing of the magical constructs. He opened his maw and breathed deeply in, sucking in many of the keys into his mouth and just chomping down.

He could feel his body beginning to mutate once more, stone shifting at his back as he hunched over. His body kept eating the keys that came at him, feasting upon them unrelentingly. Only when every last key was broken, some form of it consumed did the changes start to show more.

Two metal protrusions exploded out of his back in a spray of flaming gore. He snarled as he gripped at the stone pillar near his position. He could feel every part of his body sending mass towards those protrusions. They bulged with the added mass, and his knees buckled slightly.

Feathers began to form in two massive curtains of white. He flung out his new wings proudly the massive constructs making him look like some sort of angel of death. In truth, he was much worse.

Mass bulged along his back once more and began to change his broad sword once more. Instead of the roughened pieces of armor from the troll forged into some haphazard sword, the polished bronze of the keys began to interlock with one another, fusing together and being strengthened.

He grabbed the sword from his back and held it up, looking at both sides edged in some of the keys, with the 'teeth' that unlocked the tumblers being faced down. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he swung at the pillar and cleaved a chunk from the stone without damaging his blade.

Nodding, he was satisfied with the destructive weapon. He began to walk away slowly, placing it on his back once more. There was no way that the Pale One had not felt the surging of his powers as he consumed the keys, especially so soon after creating his armor.

No matter, if the Pale One did not then he would die much the same. If the Rider did feel the power, then he would simply kill the Rider then.

On a plus note, he didn't feel so slow anymore.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry had just left his History of Magic Final Exam. He had been the first person done and was given leave to do what he wanted. He had maybe five minutes before someone else finished and he had intended to be at the next class in that time.

Unfortunately, all of his intentions took a backseat.

Dust cawed angrily as the wave of power flowed over Harry. It made his green eyes widen and his skin pale slightly more. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck on end. Without a second thought, he threw his bag down and ran towards the staircase.

He wrenched off his robes and his tie, leaving him in a black dress shirt, black slacks, and shoes hardly fit for running and jumping. Even still, he could not just stand idly back and pray and hope that what was coming would simply just pass.

Even if it would, he could not just stand back either.

In his head, he began to recite the incantations for every fire based spell he knew, it was not his best school of magic, but he knew such a creature, a creature accustomed to the cold and dark would be best beaten back with fire.

Even if it couldn't die, it could offer Harry enough time to open a portal and send it back through.

But how had he missed it?! Such a power was not something that he should have missed! The dark power of this thing had washed over him, plunging him in a single wave of its awesome might. Comparatively speaking, a troll had been a stroll around the grounds.

Harry began to mount his power. Though the Deathly Aura was focused more upon Ice Magic, it still amplified his own power, no matter the spells he used and he would need to use every ounce of power he could muster.

Without a thought, Harry jumped up onto the banister of the stairs and jumped towards the third floor, acrobatically descending the floor and landing in a roll on the landing of the staircase. He dashed for the right hand side, his wand coming out.

He barely skidded to a halt as the creature came through the doorway leading to where the Philosopher's Stone had been kept. It was massive, with broad shoulder leading down to a tapered waist and powerful legs ending in three digitigrade toes. It had three fingers and a thumb, each ending in a deadly looking claw. It was armored in a conglomerate of ivory and ebony rock, looking like some sort of knight in plate armor. The white wings on its back gave it the look of some sort of Angel of Death.

Harry agreed with Dust's quick assessment. This thing had consumed a lot, giving it a superior look to any others that Dust had ever seen. But Harry still raised his wand. "O Tyrant of Flame, Heed me! Come, flame of purification, fiery broadsword. Fire and brimstone surge forth, burning Sodom, turning the sinners into the dust of death!" Harry's wand gave an impressive gout of fire that burned with such intensity. It all condensed into a broadsword made of pale blue flames before it surged forward, striking the creature in the chest and splashing outwards against the walls.

It had been Harry's strongest attack of fire. At its base, it was the Highest Tier of incantation based Fire Magic. Someone like War or Dumbledore would have incinerated a hole into Hogwarts' walls with such a spell.

Harry was expecting to push his enemy back with it.

Instead, when the pale blue flames died down, the creature was still there. It looked completely unharmed and gave a cruel grin showing all those razor sharp teeth its maw. Harry couldn't believe it. He couldn't understand it. It should have staggered the beast at the very least, blasted some of its armor off at best.

Instead, it lightly smoked from the intensity of the heat.

Okay… new plan. Harry turned on his heel and ran. Blood pumped adrenaline through his system. Fear gripped at him and for once since Harry became the Pale Rider, he could not turn that fear into anger. Regardless of that, he knew what he had to do. It was his duty. He was already at a supreme disadvantage and he needed to come up with a way to turn it around in his favor, something that was not going to be easy to do.

First, the creature was already armed and clearly coherent enough to know who, and more to the point what, Harry was. It had caught Harry with his pants down, proverbially speaking. He had not expected to have to fight one of these until he was out of Hogwarts, or until he had at least found War.

Second, Harry was completely unarmed. Of all of his artifacts of Death, he only had his cowl with him. It would not help him much in this situation. That particular beast was likely to gut him, physically gut him, than it was to use something that would rend his soul. The Cowl would not help him against that in the slightest.

Third was that Hogwarts students were about to start pouring into the hallways, making it difficult for Harry to lead the beast away to somewhere vastly more open where he could buy some time. It also put the students and staff in danger, a danger that they were not prepared for. At best, the staff could prepare for a siege and protect the students while it occurred.

This was not a siege though; this was a monster from beyond the Veil of Death.

It would not stop; it would not show remorse or mercy. And it was his duty to somehow force it back beyond the Veil, even if he died in the process. It could not be allowed to run around and have free reign.

His last disadvantage was something he had been stretching the limits on. He could not be found out as the Pale Rider. Death and Harry Potter could not be linked together or else there would be catastrophic events. The Goblins were practical about it, and bound to secrecy by client laws. And he doubted more than a handful of the Goblins knew. The Ghosts were honor bound to protect his secrets as they were the Dead.

Harry raised the Cowl up over his head and raised it up slightly in the front over his mouth. He felt it secure and he knew his eyes were glowing. Along with his slowly building skeletal appearance, he was slowly becoming the visage of the Pale Rider.

"Lady Hogwarts, I beseech you! Lock your doors, bring your wards to full strength, save your charges and keep them safe, but give me a path to get out with this monstrosity." Harry said as he hit the staircase and quickly began to take them two at a time. He watched as the stairs slowly began to move into position, locking in place and giving him a clear path.

Doors shut, suits of armor moved in their direct path, however futilely that might have been. Harry could feel the buzz of the wards being drawn up tight. He watched as windows snapped shut and portraits emptied of their occupants. Hogwarts was answering his call.

A good thing too, the creature was hot on his heels

But Harry still had work to do. "Ghosts of Hogwarts heed the Pale Rider's words!" he barked out. "Round up the strays and get them somewhere safe! Keep the charges of Hogwarts safe!" He saw the flittering forms around him of the many ghosts of Hogwarts, including Peeves. They had come at his command and seeing what he was leading out, they shot off in every direction.

The handled the students and his identity, though the Cowl also did the latter.

A shadow passed over him and Harry was almost running head on into the creature. Its blade was already swiping out but Harry leapt over the banister, landing on a landing a floor down, the stairs quickly moving with such speed. Harry found himself at the seventh floor, looking down on the creature which seemed to scowl up at him before launching up into flight, smashing through a staircase that tried to move in and block it.

Harry took off running, following the route that Hogwarts was providing to keep him away from the students and faculty. "I call upon the Head of the Servants of this Castle, hear my plea and come to me in my time of dire need!" There was a small pop and Harry scooped up the House Elf as they appeared.

Harry knew the House Elf saw what was behind him when the House Elf clung to him tighter. "What do yous need Sir?" the House Elf squeaked. Its large, tennis ball shaped eyes were wide with fear and its bat like ears flopped all over the place as Harry ran.

"Ravenclaw Tower, First Year Boys' Dorm, inside the trunk of Harry Potter. There's a switch on the front, just under the Eagle shaped lock. Inside the secret compartment it unlocks is a bag, I need you to bring it to me immediately. Then rally the House Elves, find some of the students that are outside the Lock-down's effect and take them somewhere safe, supply the students and staff with things to eat and drink, keep them from wandering."

The House-Elf nodded its head before popping away. It would bring Harry his things. It popped back in long enough to toss Harry the bag before popping away to continue following Harry's orders.

And just in time too, Harry saw his ticket outside of the castle and increased his speed. His legs and lungs burned, but with enough adrenaline and fear running through his system, it was easy to forget about the pain. He reached into the bag and fitted the Dominion Gauntlet onto his left hand, the Harvester coiling up quickly around his arm.

He leapt, bringing his arms up in front of his face. He crashed through a window and began to plummet. Dust took off from his shoulder, knowing it couldn't be around Harry as he fought the creature from beyond the Veil.

Harry twisted his body in a display of acrobatics and lashed out with his left hand. The Harvester snapped out and speared into the castle wall and pulling taut. Harry landed against the wall and ran along it, getting to the highest point he could before recalling the Harvester. When it snapped back against the Gauntlet, he lashed out with it again, catching higher up. This time, he rode the Harvester up as it drew itself back in.

The extra momentum propelled him up to land on one of the rooftops.

From the bag still clutched in his right hand, Harry drew out the Invisibility cloak and fitted his head through the hole meant for his head. It settled over his shoulders and quickly took on the inky black appearance that would let him blend in rather well. The Resurrection Stone, set into its ring, quickly found its place on his right middle finger, the Potter Heir Ring being tucked away into the back.

Briefly, he ignored the creature as he tucked the bag somewhere safe. He would retrieve it later.

He slashed his arm down slightly, extending the Harvester's blade from the Gauntlet. It was about eighteen inches of the blade, extended from the top of his wrist. It looked like someone had lashed a short sword to his arm. He rose to his full height, which was not quite as impressive as he would have liked. He shifted on his heels, turning to face the creature.

It clapped at him mockingly. "_**How wonderful! You're in full Regalia! It would seem as though The King's calculations, as always, were correct."**_ The voice was deep, full of mirth, and with a hint of cruelty and darkness to it. It made Harry's spine tingle. This was not some mindless beast as the memories of the previous Riders had made them out to be.

No this was something highly intelligent, immediately making it dangerous.

Harry knew it was from beyond the Veil of Death, that much was certain from the way its power felt. They had no name for their species, and there was no killing it. Countless incarnations of the Pale Rider had attempted to kill them, with no success. It left two measures for handling them.

First was sealing it away in an object or a location. Not possible in this case. Hogwarts was too populated to be corrupted by the taint of sealing such a monstrosity away. Besides, a prison like that would eventually fall and the current incarnation of Death would be forced to deal with it. There were others sealed away, just waiting to be released.

Second option was far more appealing, but difficult to perform. He had to rip open a portal beyond the Veil; the Harvester was quite capable of that. From there, he had to push this one back through without letting anything else come through, or being swept inside himself. A difficult option, as the monstrosity would be locked away.

Unfortunately, Harry still needed to catch his breath really. Running up three flights of four flights of stairs and then some had not been easy at a full on sprint. So that left trying to stall the creature for a moment longer, and it seemed like it was more than willing to talk.

"What are you on about?" Harry asked. He could hardly recognize his own voice as it came out through the Cowl. It came out in a skeletal like rattle, raspy and far older than what his size would have shown. He glanced around Hogwarts, noticing an impenetrable barrier around. It would seem that this creature would not be able to escape either.

Not until it destroyed Hogwarts' ward stone, which Harry wouldn't let it. He knew the thing would consider him a minor annoyance at best, but he was determined to prove it wrong.

"_**The new Millennium draws near once more Pale Rider. And once more, the Seven Seals have not all been broken." **_With a flick of its wrist, seven symbols began to appear in the air, made of bright fire. They began to spin slightly.

"The Seven Seals of the Apocalypse, when all Seven Break, the Riders will herald in the Apocalypse, ushering in a new era as Heaven, Hell, and Earth are all eradicated." Harry said. Not the best mental image really, but it was also unlikely to happen in his life time.

The Maker of the Seals had built them to last a hundred thousand years, or so Dust said. They could be broken by outside force, but it was unlikely.

"_**Four have already been Broken by my brethren Pale Rider, their shards scattered like Dust and Ashes in the wind. This has allowed the lock to the realm beyond the Veil of Death to be weakened. It needs a catalyst to fully shatter. Your Death shall shatter that lock, Pale Rider. And The King shall walk again. It is His Awesome Might that is necessary to break two more Seals."**_

Harry thought on what was being said. Four seals had already been broken. He couldn't fathom when or how. But what this creature was talking about… "It would be pure anarchy!" he shouted. "Heaven and Hell would converge upon Earth. No Souls would be born, and no Souls would die!" Especially if the Veil to the Realm of Death was brought down.

"_**Yes indeed Pale Rider, very good. You know the consequences of what such imbalance would bring." **_The creature clapped his hands. "_**Yes, pure Anarchy would reign. Nothing would die, nothing would live, nothing would know peace as War consumes everything. Plagues and Pestilence would be render moot, advances in medicine would stagnate! The forces of Heaven, Hell, and Earth shall look for guidance and The King shall provide it! He shall turn them all in His Glorious Image! We shall consume Earth, Heaven and Hell! And when there is nothing left to consume, He shall usher us to another world, and another, and another!"**_

A crazed zealot with incredible power, that was all Harry really needed at the moment. "I will stop you." Harry said, taking a step forward.

He had not expected to hear the insane, cruel laughter from the monster. "_**How will you stop me when He has guided your hand to this point?"**_

Harry shifted slightly. "What are you on about?" His attention was once more on what this thing could be going on about. "In fact, how did you get here? Why are there not more of you if I'm supposed to die?"

"_**A Mirror, Pale One, a Mirror connected to beyond the Veil of Death, a one way trip for one. It would never have held His Magnificence, but someone weaker, such as I, would have been able to make it through. I consumed my way forward. Fire, a troll, statues made of marbles, and even winged keys. I am near as Perfection as I possibly can get. I can consume one more thing, and only one. Your Steed shall make quite the tasty treat." **_The creature licked its chops, as though it could already taste Despair, even if Harry hadn't found him.

"_**But I shall be more than enough for you Pale Rider. Even in your current state, all that Magical Power rushing through your body. I doubt there has been a Wizard as strong as you can stand to be in centuries. You would shape the world on a whim! You were always destined to be powerful, Pale Rider, even without the powers of Death flowing through you. And we needed that power!**_

"_**The King sent His forces all over, rounding up the artifacts that had long since been scattered. The Cowl was moved to the Grim's ancestral home, the locks undone at your Family Home so that the Gauntlet may return to its Master. The Cloak was always destined to come to you, it would just take time. The Ring had been most unexpected, hidden even from His All-Seeing Gaze, and yet you managed to find it, wondrously. The Harvester was moved to a shop, where you would eventually sense it. You would be drawn to it, like the moth to fire. You, Pale Rider, have been influenced by His Hand.**_

"_**We needed you powerful, Death of the Apocalypse, and we did not have the time to wait for you to become powerful enough in your own Right. When this Millennium comes to a close, the Lock shall reset, it shall close itself tightly once more, and we would be forced to wait for the close of the next Millennium before the lock weakens itself enough for the death of the Pale Rider to break it. So He had your tools placed where you would find them to boost your power. The King sent images to a Seer to craft the Mirror that would allow me to slip through. Had I come through too soon, I would have had to fight the previous Pale Rider who would have surely sent me back. Had I come through too late, I would miss the chance The King wants for us."**_

In essence, Harry had been played. He had wondered why it had felt so easy to retrieve his objects. Even Dust had commented on it more than once. The objects hadn't been united under the same Rider in nearly… a thousand years. Harry's fist tightened, the metal of the Dominion Gauntlet creaking. The Harvester began to rattle.

He had been played for a fool. Every Pale Rider had been. He could feel his fury gripping him. Even through the fear he still felt at facing such an entity, fury began to take over. The Harvester rattled louder and the eye sockets burned with an emerald fire. Something broke inside of him.

"What is your name?" he asked the creature, his tone low and tight.

It gave a mocking and deep bow, sweeping its right arm across its chest towards the left. "_**Of course, how rude of me. You may call me Mephistopheles."**_ Harry knew it was not its true name. Its true name would give Harry power over it.

Even still, speaking its name was dangerous, but now he had a name with its face.

Harry charged ahead moving quick and low. He dodged to the side of the broadswords initial downwards swipe. He leapt on top of it and leapt upwards and outwards, towards the inner courtyard of Hogwarts. The Harvester extended in his hands and he swiped it across the creature's arm, tearing a chunk of its armor out.

The Harvester might not have been able to hurt it in the traditional sense of it feeling pain, but it could injure it enough to weaken it in strength.

Harry allowed himself to plummet for a brief moment before twisting, launching out the Harvester and catching himself on the stone wall, launching himself up into the air again. He flared out the Invisibility Cloak with both arms, momentarily suspending his descent.

The creature had summoned a whip of fire to all of its fingertips on its left hand and lashed out with them where Harry would have landed. It scorched and tore gouges into the stone.

Harry landed with barely a sound and he launched out three lances of ice with barely a thought. The creature batted two away and head butted the third head on, shattering it. Harry hadn't honestly expected it to work, but it allowed him to close the distance with the Harvester once more.

Being under half the creature's height, Harry knew that the best range to be in was close. Not too close that he couldn't get a swing or thrust in with the Harvester, but close enough that Mephistopheles could not swing that mighty broadsword around.

The Harvester turned into a spear for him, and he stabbed it into Mephistopheles' thigh before yanking it out as it turned into a scythe, tearing out a chunk of armor and spilling flaming blood all onto the roof. Harry avoided that, hopping over it and diving between the creature's legs before it could grab him.

On small slip was all it took to end him.

Harry summoned up his ice powers and encased Mephistopheles' arm in it, pausing it a moment as the Harvester rewrapped around the Dominion Gauntlet. Harry then drove the bladed it provided into the creature's lower back.

"_**Come here little bug!" **_It snarled, ripping its arm free from the pillar of ice and trying to reach around.

Harry leapt up with the blade and pressed his feet against Mephistopheles' lower back. He ripped the blade free and kicked away, arching his body over a flaming whip that the creature tried to whip around itself to smack Harry with. Harry twisted his body, the Harvester extending into a scythe and slashing into the wings as he landed a bit away.

Mephistopheles roared in fury, turning and swinging its sword. Harry leapt off the edge of Hogwarts once more, extending the Harvester out like a grappling hook to launch himself into the air over the monstrous creature. He could not let up in the slightest with his attacks.

Mephistopheles appeared before him, causing Harry's eyes to widen, having not expected it to leap into the air after him. With a roar, it swung the broadsword down, looking to cleave Harry into two pieces.

The Harvester extended and Harry summoned up a shield of both magic and ice, yet both were broken through with relative ease. The Harvester took the brunt of the impact, and Harry hit the rooftop hard. He let out a sound of pain.

His eyes widened as he glanced up at his opponent and he quickly rolled off of the rooftop, going into free fall off of Hogwarts once more. Mephistopheles had thrown its sword like some sort of spear, driving three feet of blade into the stone.

Harry struck out with the Harvester and felt himself yank to a slow as the weapon carved a scar into the school. He extended the Harvester out as far as it would go before disengaging it from the stone and catching himself again ten feet from the ground. He allowed himself to float down once more, panting heavily. His mind was racing with what he could do, trying to figure out a method for beating this monster.

The monster in question landed silently, once more at the ready, sword held at its side. Its twisted visage was pulled into a knowing smirk, as though waiting patiently. It had all the time in the world really. Harry could not run away, and he could not do battle with the creature for long.

Harry rushed it anyways, summoning lances of ice around him to launch at Mephistopheles. A sword of ice formed in his right hand, the Harvester extending and curling into a whip at his command in his left hand.

Harry slid on his knees, keeping himself under the horizontal swing of the creature. He quickly got to his feet and got behind it once more. He drove the sword of ice into the wound he had made using the Harvester in its lower back. Harry leapt away, cracking the Harvester against its arm, tearing a chunk free at the left arm's shoulder.

Harry raised his hand, having it closed into a fist. He opened his fingers as wide as possible and the ice sword exploded outwards into spikes inside Mephistopheles, but it simply broke the spikes off, its natural heat causing the sword to quickly melt without a constant source of Harry's magic.

Harry turned the Harvester into a scythe once more. He summoned up a massive chunk of ice in front of him, taking a lash from the fire whip. He could see the four deep gouges inside of it. He pulsed his magic, making it shoot out and slam into Mephistopheles, shattering on impact.

Harry used this time to propel himself up, a small pillar of ice shooting up under his feet to put get him up over the creature. He spun his body, swinging the Harvester and cleaving its left arm off at the shoulder.

Harry spun to a stop on the ground and lashed out with the grappling hook function of the Harvester, spearing Mephistopheles through the stomach before he yanked it back, making sure not to try and drag the monster with him. He could see the hole he punched through its stomach.

Mephistopheles still turned and drove its broadsword into the ground as Harry breathed heavily. It grabbed its left arm and picked it up, holding it up to the severed shoulder. Black tendrils latched out from both ends and quickly began to draw it back in. Mephistopheles held up the left hand and wiggled his fingers. "_**You can't win Pale Rider."**_

Harry breathed heavily, almost panting. The creature was faster and stronger than him, no doubt about that. "I won't stop until I have. I will push you back through the Veil of Death, even if it's the last thing I do." Harry would not give up until Mephistopheles was back where it belonged.

The rain that slowly began to drizzle down. It felt wonderful through Harry's clothes and he allowed it to empower him. He rolled his shoulders slightly, glancing upwards and letting the rain wash over the Cowl slightly.

"_**You and what army will push me back?"**_

Harry held up the Dominion Gauntlet, staring at the blood red scales upon it. It seemed as good a time as ever, an emergency if there ever was one. One of those red scales blackened as he drew upon his blood, his own personal sacrifice. A red orb formed in his left hand. "This one." Harry said.

Harry thrust his hand out, launching the red orb into the black clouds. He could feel the Death Magic grip him as intricate runes began to appear in the sky over the rain clouds, spanning over most of the grounds of Hogwarts. In fact, unless Harry missed his guess, it went to the very edges of the wards.

The rain began to take a blood red color, slashing down into the ground and soaking it with Harry's sacrifice. Mephistopheles even paused a moment, letting Harry take all the time he needed to bring his full power to bear.

"Hear me and come!" Harry called out. "Hear me and obey! Rise, I call upon you! I call upon the fallen to Rise! Heed my command! I am the Pale Rider, so Rise and Obey my Commands!"

All around, where Harry's sacrifice had touched the ground, the ground began to quake and rumble. It split apart as countless hands began to drag the bodies attached upwards. Hogwarts was a castle. A Military instillation long before it was a school. It had seen more battles than many thought.

There were a lot of dead there.

Goblins, wizards, giants, trolls all began to rise. Even a few dragons began to claw their way up, heeding the call of the avatar of Death, and the sacrifice of Death's own blood. Between Harry and Mephistopheles, the form of a blonde warrior with blue eyes, dressed in red and gold rose. The power flowing through the ground, the water, and the bodies began to reconstruct the warriors Harry had called upon.

The blonde warrior swung his right hand out, a silver blade with a ruby encrusted hilt coming to his hand, responding to its Master's call. The name of 'Gryffindor' flashed in the lightning as the warrior brought the sword up, ready to charge ahead.

A black haired mage with green eyes clawed his way out as well, a whip with the head of a snake on it uncoiled at his side, ready to strike out. He wore robes of black, silver, and green, complete with a hood. He glanced to the blonde beside him and the two nodded to one another.

Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin had been buried at Hogwarts.

Harry turned slightly, pointing his scythe at the form of the creature from beyond the veil of death. This was no army of Inferi, incapable of thoughts or fast motions. These were soldiers resurrected temporarily, granted a body that could pass for living for a short time. And Harry did not have to continue supplying them with his magic. An army of undead, unlike anything anyone had ever risen before was ready for his command.

And Harry gave it. "Kill Mephistopheles."

-End Chapter-

A/N: And here we go, the end has been kicked off with an explosive start. I have brought everything I have to create this first story, and I know there are a lot of loose ends that need tying up.

Let me tell you this now: Most of the loose ends will be tied up in other books. We will see more of the various plot elements I have introduced in the other books. I plan for this 'series' to be something awesome and I can't just put everything into one book.

I estimate another two-three chapters to this story. It all depends on how that last one goes. And let me tell you guys, since I first came up with this monster from Beyond the Veil, I have been hyping myself up to this one last point. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

Oh and Happy Halloween!

HBW


	23. Book 1: Chapter 23

_Last Time: The monster growing inside of Hogwarts reveals itself to be a creature from beyond the Veil of Death. It has come to kill Harry and break free its Master, an entity thus far only known as 'The King.' In his desperation, Harry has used one of his sacrifices, given to him by the Dominion Gauntlet to raise an army to do battle._

Book One: Death

Chapter 23

"Kill Mephistopheles." The words spilled from Harry's lips rather easily.

The creature in question had his face twist into a gleeful, maniacal smirk as he began to turn and face the amassed army. "_**How delightful! All of this for me!"**_ He said.

"Urgok Smash!" A twenty two foot tall giant ripped up one of the trees near the Forbidden Forest and brought it crashing down at Mephistopheles, splinters launching away and even pinging off of various shields and armor.

A black form rushed by Urgok's head, a splattering of gore spilling out all over the place as the form ascended high, turning to show Mephistopheles having slashed through the Giant's head. His wings caught him in the air, spinning his body around.

One of the dragons roared, crashing into Mephistopheles with its jaws open wide, looking to eat the creature. However, the monster just stepped onto the dragon's teeth, lifting his arms up to the roof of the dragon's mouth, forcing the mouth to stay open.

Mephistopheles adjusted his stance to allow for him to hold his sword. He then drove it upwards into the skull of the dragon, thick gore spilling down onto his arm before he wrenched the blade backwards through the creature's upper snout. Mephistopheles then descended down to the ground with it. He grabbed the dragon's head and popped its head off with a brief snarl.

A Goblin wielding a battle axe charged at him alongside a golden armor adorned dwarf with a shield and a hand axe. Mephistopheles swung his sword. These were not agile warriors like the Pale Rider. The goblin managed to throw itself to the ground, but the Dwarf was not able to, getting bisected at the legs.

Mephistopheles was slammed into by a large troll that roared out a challenge, pounding its chest. The Creature from Beyond the Veil of Death flipped himself back up and charged the would-be challenger. Only something bit into his leg, forcing him to stumble and take a club to the face for his efforts.

He looked down to see what had attacked him only to find himself surprised by what he faced. It was the head of the dragon he had decapitated, and only the head. The two halves of its upper jaw worked independently of one another while it tried to gnaw through his armor.

He snarled and drove his fist through the creature's skull, wrenching out its rotted brain. Whatever intelligence there may have been quickly died but it did not stop gnawing at him. It infuriated him! "_**Let go!" **_He snarled, punching the skull several times until it was nothing but fragments. Even still, the pieces tried to move.

The giant whose head he had split like an over ripe melon was picking itself up, panicking over the fact it couldn't see right. The Pale Rider blasted its head with some ice after having it hold the two halves together. The giant turned to him and charged again, this time with the Pale Rider on its shoulder.

Harry rushed across the battle field as Mephistopheles continued to try to make work of the undead attacking him. He left Salazar and Godric back, knowing that they would pick their targets a little better than the brute force that were the Giants and the Mountain Trolls.

Harry stood up on the Giant's shoulder a little bit more, bouncing up and down. He leapt as Mephistopheles moved to strike down Urgok. The Harvester turned into a spear and Harry drove it into Mephistopheles' shoulder, landing one foot on the creature's broad shoulder before pushing up and off, yanking the Harvester free as it turned into a scythe to do the most damage.

The creature roared, even as he plunged his claw into Urgok's stomach, ripping out the giant's innards in an attempted to try and do as much damage as possible to the adversary.

Unfortunately for Mephistopheles, it didn't slow down Urgok in the slightest. The giant slammed into the creature with one big hand, driving Mephistopheles right into the ground, breaking up the earth and sending dirt and rock flying. Urgok raised both hands up over his head, clasping them together and slamming them down into Mephistopheles' abdomen.

Once, twice, then his head came flying from his shoulders. The headless body lifted up for a third when Mephistopheles roared out. "_**Enough!" **_A blast of fire pushed back the advancing undead, with Harry being behind a troll and getting knocked back that way.

Mephistopheles breathed heavily, looking out over the scorched crater. He had a gaping hole, leaking flaming gore through his stomach. His shoulder was badly injured, with the front missing armor and spilling out more flaming blood. Any other force might have succumbed to their injuries, but not he, not one from beyond the Veil.

The dead just kept coming through, and his power was not infinite, even as great as it was. He didn't understand. Why wouldn't the dead remain that way? He understood that it was necromancy that animated the corpses, but surely they should succumb to their own limits.

He saw a dismembered dragon's claw crawling its way towards him, as though to kill him as was commanded of the original body. "_**Why won't they just die!?"**_He snarled before kicking it away and slashing it in midair, making sure it couldn't try to inch its way back towards him.

He turned at the sound of the Pale Rider's laughter, the sound like that of bones rattling. "The Dead, they do not feel pain. They do not die. They will not stop until my order has been fulfilled." The Pale Rider mocked him!

Mephistopheles roared with fury, the sound shaking the earth and the loose stones around him. He was incensed with the Pale Rider! "_**I will not be bested by some upstart human!"**_ He began to charge the Pale Rider.

He was intercepted by a second giant that had charged him and slammed his body into the ground, dragging him by his throat to dig a trench through the ground. Mephistopheles ripped the giant's hand free from its body before he cut its head off and bisected the giant.

The dwarf that had his legs split from his body pushed himself up to the stump of his midsection. He glanced at the monster that had cut him down. His axe was too far away from him to do anything, and it was too heavy to do much with.

Most of the creatures were itching for the fight. His few Dwarf brethren were just itching for it. They had fallen trying to take the castle from its original founders, back when it was called the Black Keep. The Dwarves had failed badly. In fact, the entire army of five thousand warriors strong had been slain down to the last man.

Most had been burned to Ash.

But he noticed a young human, shaking as he held his sword out. The undead human was completely fearful and had his bowels still worked they would have likely been voided. The old Dwarf wanted to curse at the indignity of both the fearful human, and needing his help.

"Laddie!" The dwarf threw a pebble, bouncing it off of the human's head. "Me legs!" he barked out, pointing to the golden armored pair of legs that were trying to get away.

Perhaps the lad had been a squire before he was killed, because he responded quickly to the order. The human scrambled for the legs, grabbing them and hefting them up to carry them over to the dwarf. "What else?" the boy asked, frightened green eyes wide.

Humans, bah. To the Dwarf, such cowardice would be beaten out. Then again, he glanced across the battlefield to the human doing battle against the creature, the Wizard that had summoned them all up. Perhaps the boy needed some steel put into him. The dwarf unstrapped the throwing axes from his legs and set them beside his body. He grabbed the shaft of his battle axe and dragged it towards him.

"Listen well Laddie, there isn't much time." The dwarf said, passing the battle axe over. "Once that thing figures out that the giant ain't getting back up from that blast of fire, he's going to start using every blast of fire he's got in him. Me axe ain't worth a damn to me right now. I ain't getting close enough to swing the damned thing. She's a good axe and she'll treat you right."

The dwarf grabbed the young human's tunic roughly, pulling him closer. "Your dead already Laddie. Regardless of the outcome of this battle, ain't no changing that. But you get to show them Gods of yours you got a fire inside of you. Whatever you were before now is as good a chance as any to prove that ain't what you are now. Now get yourself over to those two humans." The Dwarf pointed a stubby finger in the direction of the two wizards standing there, measuring their foe still.

The human's green eyes were frightful, but he still grabbed the axe. "What about you?" he asked, his voice trembling.

The Dwarf laughed. "I got a dwarf projectile right here." He patted the throwing axes. "And me throwing arm still works. I'll keep chucking until I'm out, then I'm going to drag meself over to that bastard and start using me fists."

"But he'll burn you to ash!" The young human said.

The old dwarf laughed louder and clapped the young human on his shoulder. "Better to go out swinging than to sit and wait for it to come Laddie. If that creature wins today, everyone dies. Now get! I don't want to be drawing attention while you're here with me axe. She deserves better than that."

The young human ran over towards the other two humans and the dwarf drew one of the axes out of the holster. In truth, they were never really intended to be thrown. They were balanced entirely wrong to be thrown. They were intended to be back up axes so that when his broke, he wasn't completely defenseless.

Over the years, and through more battles than recorded in memory, they had been jokingly referred to as Dwarf projectiles when the dwarves had started to throw them instead.

He drew his arm back and took aim. He could still remember the heft and pull, even though it had been over a thousand years since he had threw one. It was simultaneously yesterday and forever ago. He let it fly; throwing it with all the might he could muster.

The axe took the creature in the side of the head. It turned with a snarl, ripping the axe from its head, a tiny trickle of its flaming blood spilling down over its shoulder. The dwarf let another fly, and another. He threw them as fast as he could, even as the creature took each one.

The dwarf even managed to land one in its left shoulder, where its armor was wrenched free by the Pale Rider. The throwing axe sank nice and deeply into the flesh there, blood spilling over the battle field.

Six axes had been thrown; six had slammed into the creature that watched the old dwarf. Then it gave the dwarf the biggest insult of the dwarf's long life.

Three hundred years, three of his people's four hundred year life span, not one enemy had ever given him that sort of insult.

The creature turned its back on the dwarf, labeling him as an inconsequential.

The young human jogged up to the two men, clutching the heavier battle axe. He was still scared, his body shook. He couldn't get a control on his nerves. He quickly recognized the two though. "You're Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor!" he said absolutely shocked and surprised.

Salazar rolled his eyes a bit. "A pleasure, I'm certain. You are?"

"Uh, Adrian Potter. My family has gone to Hogwarts well… since it opened really." The now named Adrian said.

"Really?" Godric asked, perking up and slapping Adrian's shoulder. "And what house did you belong to Sir Potter?"

Adrian shook his head, looking downcast for a moment. "I uh, I couldn't attend. I was born without magic. I apprenticed to a Knight of a non-magical family. But during the Siege of 1221, a cousin called upon me saying she was scared. I came and fought, died here also."

Salazar nodded and glanced across the battlefield. "And now you answer the call of another family member." They all knew who the Pale Rider was exactly. But being the dead, they were duty bound to keep that secret from the living.

It also brought the topic back to hand.

"Indeed." Godric said. "We've been looking for a Third for our bold plan Sir Potter. Are you a fast runner?"

Adrian nodded. "I can run, and I can even swing this heavy thing." He said, hefting the golden Dwarven made axe.

"Excellent, your Dwarven Axe will pierce that thing's armor as well as my Goblin Blade." Godric said, hefting his sword up onto his shoulder. He carried the thing one handed, even as long as it was. Adrian would have been forced to use two hands.

Salazar decided to outline the details of the plan for the young Potter Squire. "As fast as you are, you're not going to be faster than what I am when I'm shadow striding, I will go in first, get behind the creature to try and pull it from behind. You're going to charge ahead of Godric, aim for the legs, above or below the knees. Hopefully you'll buckle it and Godric will go in to bring it down. Our Goblin allies," Salazar obviously used that word extraordinarily lightly as he waved his hand to a group of goblins waiting. "Will use their blades to start cutting and stabbing the beast. Their blades are able to pierce that thing's armor quite nicely."

"And if we're reduced to cinders before that happens?" Adrian asked in a flat tone. The plan seemed entirely too audacious.

"Then will we meet in Valhalla Sir Potter!" Godric proclaimed loudly. "Where we will feast on succulent goat, lamb, and boar, chug down barrels of hard ale, and have more wenches than we can possibly handle while we wait for Ragnarok to come!"

"You know, I never quite made it to Knighthood, so Sir isn't quite appropriate." Adrian said.

"Odin's Valkyrie will not care Sir Potter. You are a brother in arms now, and will show great courage to fight again, even in the afterlife." Godric said. "Should we die here, I have no doubt that the Valkyrie will come for us."

"You'll have to excuse Godric." Salazar said drolly. "He never lost his Nordic Roots, and not dying in battle has gotten to him." He then charged ahead, seemingly skating along the ground. And yet he shot forward like an arrow, shadowy smoke rising up around his feet.

Salazar seemingly just turned into smoke as he hit an unmoving figure, only to reform around it still striding.

"Whereas Sal never learned to lighten up despite my best attempts to get him to go drinking and wenching!" Godric proclaimed before rushing forward with a battle cry.

Adrian shook his head slightly before running ahead, keeping the axe steady out of habit. He passed Godric quite easily, outstripping the large Nordic Wizard-Warrior. He hit the same unmoving figure on the ground and leapt up onto it, and down off of it without breaking stride.

As a Squire, he had been required to run. He had practiced it until he collapsed. He had to be able to leap over bodies and obstacles and duck and weave around the battlefield. If his Lord did not get his sword, or his shield, or his spear, or whatever was needed, then he had failed as a Squire.

He may have been made fun of for it by others, but it had saved his Lord a few times on the field of battle when his Lord had forgotten his shield or something of the such. And Sir Penwood had been a very forgetful man.

Godric's battle cry had gotten the creature's attention. Salazar burst into smoke upon hitting the being, reforming about ten feet behind it. His whip lashed out, catching it around the neck. He wound it a bit around his arm and grabbed the weapon with both hands, pulling.

Salazar saw another pair of hands, one gauntleted and one not grabbing the whip. He looked over to see the Pale Rider, his Heir by Conquest. They both nodded at the same time and pulled on the whip, making the creature give out a sound like it was being choked.

Adrian ran up at the creature's legs. He swung the axe as hard as he could, planting his feet as he drove it just under the front of its left knee. He wrenched the axe free and dipped his head down and under the creature's groin area as he stepped through, bringing the axe around in a swing of his full might, driving the axe into the creature's leg, just above its right knee from behind.

He wrenched the axe free and moved away, not wanting to be under it when it fell. He grabbed the whip and pulled more.

Godric gave another battle cry before leaping up and driving his goblin blade into the foe's chest, driving the blade straight through like a hot knife in butter. He raised his hand skyward, calling upon his Nordic Magic. A bolt of lightning struck his hand and he pounded the sword with his fist, discharging the lightning in a hammer blow.

He grabbed his sword and leapt off, kicking downwards as he landed behind the others. He planted his sword in the ground and grabbed the whip with both hands, pulling down and felling the beast with a mighty crash.

The Goblins descended upon the fallen creature, hacking and stabbing with all the ferocity that their race was known for. They were even less civilized than the Goblins of Gringotts or the Goblins under High King Ragnarokk's rule. Swords, spears, and daggers thrust into the creature's body. Axes hacked at the armor. Pick axes attempted to pry the stone free from its skin.

Mephistopheles roared out as another blast of fire came to him as he pushed himself back up onto his feet. "_**Foolish Mortal Creatures!" **_he roared out. "_**I am Invincible, I am Immortal! You should be bowing down as though I were a God made flesh!" **_

Mephistopheles was definitely worse for wear. A gaping hole in his chest, made by Godric was the size of a Quaffle. The stone armor around it had been blasted clear, or driven into his skin, making his flaming blood bleed freely like a river of fire down his body. At his lower abdomen was the shot sized hole made from the Harvester and the ice.

He wrenched the Dwarven axe from his shoulder, his thigh, and even his wings. Shadowy tendrils tried to reconnect the damage, but they could not simply regenerate his body without him consuming something. But he was saving his hunger. Even injured as he was, he could still defeat this pitiful army.

He didn't feel pain after all, but he did feel fatigue. And even he was slowly becoming weary of this battle. As excited as he had been, he had not expected the ants to do so much damage to his glorious form.

Worse yet, they continued to come at him. The chunks of his armor around his abdomen, ripped free by goblin pick axes, attested to that. His eyes darted to a dragon that roared and swooped at him. He decided he would keep this one down.

Mephistopheles leapt into the air, diverting to the left just as the dragon's teeth had come close. He grabbed the claw that it tried next and wrenched it free from the corpse, his impressive strength coming into play as he ripped bone from flesh, muscle, and sinew.

He ripped at its ribcage, clawed hand and sword driving into the creature and breaking bones away and ripping out organs. He tore out a piece of its spine, even as it tried to claw at him. Mephistopheles held tight to the creature's side, just under its wing.

It came crashing down and he began to hack it into pieces, butchering his way through the mass of meat and bones. He wanted to make certain that it would not rise again as he tore bloody chunks out of it, stomping bones into tiny fragments.

He roared out in the middle of the carnage when he was certain that the dragon would not be moving any longer. "_**I will crush all of you!"**_

He stopped a charging troll. Instead of being blindsided by it, he raised both hands up and held it back. He dug his feet into the gore splattered ground and held himself there, slowly being pushed back anyways. It was hard to stop the mass of a charging troll.

Even still, stop it Mephistopheles did. He drove his forehead into its bulbous nose. He felt bones breaking around its nose, and blood splashing in his face. The troll staggered back. If the Dead did not feel pain, they still had natural instincts. Mephistopheles sliced through the troll's arms, cutting its hands off. Then he cut through the arms at the elbows.

He stepped forward cutting through its stomach and wrenching out its innards. He decapitated the beast then. But he wasn't finished. He began to pull it apart, ripping its stump like arms from its sockets. He tripped the great beast and grabbed one leg, ripping it out at the hip before pulling both sides until it popped apart at the knee.

He thoroughly tore apart the creature in a brief span of time, his fire blasts having pushed the forces back and the dragon's fall also pushing them back.

He turned and let out a challenging roar at a Giant that was charging him. He charged at the beast, refusing to be stopped.

Harry let out a sound of frustration. He wracked his brain for something to help him fight Mephistopheles as the creature butchered the undead. But it was a battle of David against Goliath, with David having forgotten his sling. If he didn't think of something and fast, they were all doomed.

"We need to do something!" Adrian said, hefting the Dwarven axe onto his shoulder. It was clear he wanted to be useful, but he wasn't helping. Mephistopheles wasn't weak enough for Harry to rip open a portal. The creature wouldn't be sucked in.

Not to mention that took time, even with the Harvester showing him how to do it.

"Take the Bold path!" Godric said, clapping Harry on the back. The young Potter Heir almost staggered from the blow. But Godric wasn't helping either. Being bold against Mephistopheles wasn't going to work. Harry wasn't strong enough, so he had to work with clever tactics.

"Don't be stupid Godric." Salazar said simply as he watched Mephistopheles work through the cannon fodder. Harry knew that the Slytherin Founder was trying to think of a plan himself, but they had hoped the Goblins would have been able to do more damage than what they had done.

Harry threw his mind through the various spells he knew. None of them would work. They required time that they didn't have and preparation that they couldn't get. His scar prickled slightly, images flashing in his mind. He could see necromantic rituals, High Tier incantation magic, even Battle Magic. None of it was going to help.

"Well… I do have one spell…" Godric said, stroking his chin slightly, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I would need time, and a distraction, but it is powerful."

Salazar's head whipped to Godric. "You haven't even perfected that Spell yet." His tone said how well he thought the plan would work.

"And do you have a better plan Sal?" Godric challenged, balancing his sword on his shoulder.

Harry turned to Godric fully, looking up to the big blonde man. "How long will you need?" he asked. If Godric thought his spell would help, Harry would ensure that he had the time.

Godric held up five fingers. "Five Minutes Pale Rider." He said a bit grimly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Five minutes. It was a long time for a spell. Even Harry's most powerful spell took about thirty seconds for him to incant. But he didn't have a better plan. He wished he did, but he didn't. He glanced to the blonde warrior and nodded. "You'll get it." Harry said, beginning to move towards Mephistopheles.

"Are you out of your mind?" Salazar asked venomously. "This spell is experimental at best, we should-"

"Look," Harry snapped, cutting Salazar off. "Unless you can offer a better plan in the next thirty seconds, I'm doing this and I'm going to need your help. Time is a luxury we don't have at this moment and once thirty seconds are up; if you don't have a plan, then don't criticize."

Harry waited and watched Salazar scowl a bit. The man's fist tightened at his whip. "Damn, fine." He said.

Harry nodded his head. That was what he had thought would happen. He was about to start heading towards Mephistopheles when Adrian grabbed him. "What?" he snapped out.

"Wait." Adrian said, pointing to what he saw. Harry's eyes followed the line of sight until it dawned on him why to wait.

They were, unknowingly, being bought some time.

The old dwarf had dragged himself through gore, through chunks of creatures that had been blown apart by the impact of either dragon. He dragged himself past one of his fallen brethren, one of the few that could respond to the call of the Pale Rider. His fellow warrior had been dead once more, caught in one of the blasts of fire.

Still, the old dwarf grabbed the axe of his fellow warrior and continued to drag himself. At best, he knew he was going to be a minor annoyance. The monster was tearing through giants, trolls, and dragons as though they were a roast of lamb before a wounded berserker.

He found himself humming an old mead hall tune as he dragged himself forward. It helped him take his mind off of the daunting task of simply getting at Mephistopheles. He had to crawl over the bodies of those still trying to move, or that had been utterly destroyed and their chunks moved at Mephistopheles.

Finally, Mephistopheles turned towards the Pale Rider and the old Dwarf continued to drag himself forward. He hefted himself up onto the stump of his waist just as Mephistopheles crushed a troll's head in his hand. The old dwarf hefted the axe in both hands. He would show the creature not to simply write him off.

"Oi! Ugly!" The dwarf called out, catching Mephistopheles' attention, just a little after the swing of his axe.

Unlike Adrian, the old Dwarf knew how to swing an axe. He had been swinging an axe for longer than Adrian had been alive for. Even without his legs, he could still get a solid swing in. He hacked its foot off at the ankle in one swing. He shifted his axe in his hands and was about to take a second swing for maybe the knee. It would be a high swing, especially cut in half as the old dwarf was.

It never came.

Mephistopheles roared out in fury at having his foot cut off. He simply kicked the dwarf away with the stump of his leg. Black tendrils fused the severed body part back together properly and he began to stalk towards the punted dwarf.

He had originally written the dwarf off as an inconsequential, but he knew better now. The Undead Legion that the Pale Rider had summoned up would not stop until he was dead or he had reduced them to such pieces that they could not fight him.

He stalked towards the dwarf that was attempting to shift itself to a better position than face down on the ground. A series of battle cries came at him, and Mephistopheles turned to see Goblins rushing him, stabbing with daggers and leaping at him.

He snarled as he caught the first one in his clawed hand and crushed its skull. A second landed on his back, driving a dagger into his spine. He spun around fast enough to throw the one on his back off and caught another airborne one with a kicked that crushed the Goblin's armor in.

His legs were leapt on and daggers and swords stabbed at him. Pick axes dug into his armor, trying to wrench it free once more. Mephistopheles ripped at the Goblins, sounding more like a bestial animal than an intelligent horror as he roared and snarled at them.

The old dwarf raised his axe in his hands and drove it into the front of Mephistopheles' knee, pinned a goblin there even as the Goblin stabbed at Mephistopheles' thigh despite having an axe through its gut.

Mephistopheles snarled and stomped on the dwarf. He stomped more than once, generating enough force to cave the dwarf's body in and crush him to a bloody pulp underneath a flattened plate of gold that had once been armor.

He then wrenched the Goblins free of his body, one at a time. He rend them asunder, throwing their liberated limbs away one at a time.

Harry saw this and rushed forward, Salazar striding ahead and Adrian lagging just a little behind. While it had bought them a few moments, they hadn't come up with a better plan in that time and Godric continued to gather power into his hands, shaping it along his blade.

Harry had only recognized it as a dual elemental spell of some sort, mixing lightning with fire. Two elements that Harry was weakest at to be completely honest.

Harry watched as Salazar caught Mephistopheles' hand at the wrist, keeping him from wrenching off another Goblin. However it was not to be as Salazar had to quickly disengage his whip before he would be yanked towards the creature.

Harry once more summoned up a platform of ice to launch him up into the air. The Harvester in mid-swing formed into a gleaming halberd, and Harry dug the gleaming blade into Mephistopheles' wing, hoping to remove that advantage from the monster.

That wasn't to be either, the wound had not been deep enough, and not solid enough to keep the shadowy tendrils that seemed to make up its body from stitching it back together. The Harvester turned into a trident, and Harry spun around Mephistopheles' legs, the creature's focus once more on Harry.

He drove the prongs into Mephistopheles' side, yanking out almost as quickly as he made the wound.

Adrian joined the fight as Mephistopheles made a grab for Harry, no doubt looking to squeeze the life out of the young Potter Heir. Adrian's gleaming Dwarven made battle axe sung through the air as he lopped off Mephistopheles' hand, but the shadowy tendrils made a grab for it and it was soon back on hand.

But it had been enough to allow for Harry to make a getaway.

Salazar danced around Mephistopheles and the carnage it had wrought. His whip lashed out whenever he wasn't a shadowy smoke that not even Mephistopheles could hurt or catch. Unfortunately, such tactics took a toll on Salazar; Harry could see the strain on the man's face as he continued to fight on.

Godric could feel the strain of the magic in his body. At one time, he might have been able to perform such complex magic. But while he had died young by Wizard standards, he had still been past his prime. Age brought finesse, not strength.

He held up his blade with both hands, the flat of his sword facing him. Magic surged through his form along the blade that burned with an intensity he had long since forgotten. It cackled with electricity, slight discharges occurring against the metal armor he wore.

"Surtr, Mightiest of the Fire Giants," Godric licked his lips a little bit. Even invoking the Fire Giant's name was dangerous. "He-Who-Burns-All-At-Ragnarok, Bless My Blade, Allow it to Reduce All to Dust and Ash in the Wind, Burn the Impure, Burn the Unclean, Burn the Unworthy to the Ground!" The blade erupted in hotter flames. Godric, as an undead, had an instinct to douse them and to drop his blade.

But in this instant, he could not and he kept the sword held.

"Loki, Brother of Thor the Thunderer and Cleverest of the Gods, Bless My Blade with the Lightning, Accompany my Blade as you do Thor the Thunderer, Pierce My Enemy, Pass through Armor, Strike as you do Loki, Once without Fail!" Godric spoke louder over the cackling electricity that arced all along his body now.

"Mighty Odin, Wisest of Gods, Ruler of Valhalla, and Mighty All-Father" Godric spoke against his blade. There could be no mishap. "Allow my Throw to Ring Straight and True, Bless my Blade like Gungnir so my Enemy Falls." Three spells that were more like prayers and Godric was as ready as he was going to get.

He balanced the blade in a reverse grip and held it by the hilt like he was going to throw a javelin. He held his arm out, aiming for the creature that the young Pale Rider had summoned him to help destroy. This was his most powerful spell, his most dangerous spell.

Doubly so that he was an Undead.

He could almost hear his sweet Rowena raving at him, her voice a shrill shriek like a thousand harpies with her panic. Even still, it brought a smile to his face. Helga had also fretted over him when he had first attempted the spell trying to heal very grievous wounds.

Godric stepped into the throw. He had often thrown his blade like this and his form was as flawless as the last time he had done so. It was quite the demoralizer to have such a blade thrown some great distance to land into the commander's chest, buried all the way up to the guard.

His body turned and he drove his hand forward. He gave it just a slight spin, the slight force forward being all there was needed.

As soon as it fully cleared his fingertips, there was a thunderous crack, like a bolt of lightning.

An apt comparison considering that was what the sword was like. It shot across the battlefield faster than even the keenest of eyes could track, taking Mephistopheles in his upper abdomen, between the two holes he already had in his chest. The sheer force of the blade striking true caused Mephistopheles to be jerked forward, launching and slamming into the barrier around Hogwarts.

Then, an engulfing pillar of an inferno blasted forward, the fires no longer kept back by Godric's magic. They discharged, charring rock and earth with enough force to blast a hole through the barrier around Hogwarts and parting the clouds above.

The barrier quickly reformed however as the inferno began to die down.

Godric fell to his hands and knees, breathing hard. Try as he might, he couldn't must the strength to pick himself up.

In fact, he fell forward onto his face.

Harry allowed the ice to crumble as he stood to his full height. He glanced to ground zero of the Inferno that Godric had caused with whatever spell he had used. He breathed heavily and fell to one knee. His magic was incredibly low. He didn't have the reserves that the Undead had.

Even still, he glanced up as Salazar and Adrian both looked upon the inferno.

A form rose up and Harry hardened himself. He forced himself to stand, even as his legs didn't want to. He began to channel his magic, heedless of the words of Cassandra Abbot regarding the magical saturation he performed when channeling too much magic.

It was do or die really.

Mephistopheles rose up from the settling dust and dirt the small explosion had caused. His armor had been blasted clean apart. His chest, once a smooth and whole part of his body was blasted open, from neck to groin right down the middle. Bare shadowy tendrils held him together, slowly stitching the creature together again.

His wings, once full of feathers were now just protruding spikes with tendrils handing from them freely. Body parts that were barely connected began to slowly sew themselves back together.

Harry prepared himself to charge forward, to try and hack Mephistopheles to pieces with his allies at his side. He was prepared to fight to his last breath. Before he could however,

An eruption of flame occurred between Harry and Mephistopheles, and standing in the midst of that fire was someone Harry found himself happy to see oddly enough.

Wreathed in the fire was a furious looking Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

-End Chapter-

A/N: A New Challenger Approaches! Can you feel the excitement as Dumbledore enters the fray?

But what will the Leader of the Light do?

HBW, out.


	24. Book 1: Chapter 24

_Last Time: The battle begins in earnest between Mephistopheles and the army that Harry has raised. Yet despite their best efforts, they just cannot put the beast down permanently. After Godric gave his best shot, the strongest spell in his arsenal, Mephistopheles still rose. But a new fighter arrived in the form of Albus Dumbledore._

Book One: Death

Chapter 24

The flames from Fawkes' fire travel died began to die down, but Dumbledore's blue eyes were already scanning the field of battle. Undead, countless undead, had been raised from those that had fallen around Hogwarts. He knew that a few notable people, such as two of the Founders, had been buried on the lands, but he had no idea that there was such a large amount of dead on Hogwarts' grounds.

His first priority was, as it always had been, the students. The sheer idea of such a dark and powerful wizard was chilling. Raising a human was, as he found out through battles with both Gellert and Tom, relatively easy. To raise creatures, such as trolls and dragons required a certain sort of power that was unheard of.

The idea of a Lich being at Hogwarts filled Dumbledore with dread. He had faced on before during the war with Gellert. It had been a terrifying experience. It was only with the removal of the memories did he find any sort of peace when trying to sleep, instead of being plagued by the things he saw. He made sure to remember enough that what he had seen had been horrible, but nothing past that.

Dwarves and Goblins should have been impossible to raise, their natural attunements with magic making it difficult for such a connection to be established. And yet he could clearly see a few of both of them. Giants even more so, yet he saw a few parts of what were clearly giants.

He had been down at the Hog's Head with his brother, trying to patch up some of the rougher spots they had in their history when he felt the Wards of Hogwarts go on full force. He had been forced to walk to Hogwarts, only to be barred from entry and command of the wards.

But what he had seen had undoubtedly chilled him. The Army of the Undead there, fighting against a singular foe. He wasn't certain if that singular entity was a friend or foe, perhaps one of Hogwarts' final defenses against such an invading force.

It had taken him some time to get into position where Fawkes could hear his call to come to him. The Phoenix's remarkable ability to pass through any ward was quite the boon. Fawkes had flown overhead briefly, refusing to take him in.

And good thing too when that inferno had erupted, blasting a hole into Hogwarts' barrier. The force of such a spell was unlike anything he had ever heard of, or even attempted. Had Tom had such a spell under his command, then no doubt he would not have failed in the first war.

When Fawkes had finally flashed him in, he could see the damage wrought by such a spell, and see that the construct it had struck was back up despite it.

A whip of flames came to his fingertips and Dumbledore struck out. His priority had to be the students. No Necromancer, no Lich would pass up the opportunity to get at young magical blood. And at a major center of magical power such as Hogwarts, Dumbledore could not allow it to pass.

He would not allow it to pass.

His whip of fire wrapped around the throat of a nearby undead Goblin and he yanked, popping it off and burning the undead to ashes. The Elder Wand shot to his hand and he turned, his whip slashing through the air to cut down a human undead. He blasted another in the chest with a fire spell.

He danced over the battlefield, cutting down a dozen of the endless hoard and blasting another dozen or so.

Harry's eyes widened as he watched Dumbledore begin attacking the undead. He sprinted forward and caught the old man's wrist. "What do you think you're doing?!" he snarled at his Headmaster. "You're destroying my army!"

Dumbledore's blue eyes hardened and he turned, looking to lash Harry with his whip, even if Dumbledore couldn't recognize the Potter Heir. Harry jumped to the side and batted away the fireball with the flat of his scythe.

"I will protect the students of Hogwarts from your dark Magic!" Dumbledore bellowed. Harry had forgotten that behind the failures the man had, behind the questionable policies and the shortcomings as a politician and a Headmaster, Dumbledore had one solid truth behind his name.

Dumbledore was powerful.

In a few decades, Harry might have been able to stand up to Dumbledore's might. Maybe less at the rate he was going, but at the moment Harry was woefully under prepared to fight Dumbledore.

"Fool!" Harry barked back, even as he shielded himself from the wave of unfettered power that Dumbledore released. "I'm trying to save Hogwarts! That thing will destroy us all!" Harry pointed at Mephistopheles, even as he dodged more of Dumbledore's spell work. "It is a creature from beyond the Veil of Death wanting my death!"

Despite Harry speaking of Mephistopheles, the creature in question wasn't paying any attention. Instead, those burning crimson eyes were staring towards the air, focusing on a magnificent creature. He licked his teeth slightly.

Death's Horse, Despair, was meant to be the Wind itself trapped into animal form. It would have been a glorious thing to eat for someone like Mephistopheles who absorbed the power of what he ate. He would have been faster; his blade would have cut sharper. He would be boundless.

But the gnawing hunger had begun to get to him. And there was a prey that was even better. From his fingertips, a whip of flame pooled to the ground. He had noticed how the older wizard had begun to use just fire spells against the Undead. And while he felt a moment of stupidity for not thinking of using the element of purity, some leeway had to be given. It was not like his kind was known for Fire.

He could see the tenseness of the Undead. They were so focused on the battle between the wizards, though a few did keep an eye on him due to the flaming whip in his hand. Futile really. He would soon become unstoppable. He would be undefeatable.

He drew the whip around his body, a flaming circle forming around his head briefly before he launched his whip out, catching the Phoenix around its body. Oh to travel like a Phoenix. The barriers would not be able to stop him. He could flame in and out as he pleased. He could go anywhere he wanted.

He would savor the taste of the Pale Rider's fear as he was forced to always look over his shoulder. Then, when the fear had saturated the Pale Rider's form, Mephistopheles would enjoy slowly butchering him, slowly skinning and then eating the Pale Rider.

Fawkes gave a squawk.

Harry glanced skyward, spinning around Dumbledore as Fawkes was yanked downwards. "Salazar, Adrian!" he barked out as he lashed out with the Harvester. He wrapped his arm around the whip as it curled around the flame whip behind Fawkes.

Harry grunted as he felt himself dragged forward a bit. Salazar's whip wound tight around the fire whip as well and they both pulled with all their might. They had to keep Mephistopheles from consuming Fawkes. Harry dug deep, drawing upon his powers. Ice began to encase his legs from the ground, water deep in the ground anchoring him.

It wouldn't be enough to overpower Mephistopheles, and only Harry could touch the Harvester to pull.

Dumbledore's own fire whip soon latched onto Mephistopheles' fire whip and the old wizard pulled, wrapping his hands around the magical construct.

A troll had grabbed Salazar's whip with one hand and a large tree with the other, trying to pull Mephistopheles forward.

Adrian rushed forward, golden axe gleaming. He raised it high and quickly cut through Mephistopheles' whip, Salazar and Harry disengaging theirs shortly after with a flick of their wrist. It made Dumbledore end up pulling Fawkes to him.

Harry switched the Harvester back to the scythe and aimed it at Dumbledore. "Get the phoenix out of here!" he barked out. "If that thing eats it, then we're all doomed. It gains the attributes of things it eats."

Dumbledore looked to Fawkes and tossed him into the air. The Phoenix snapped into flames, disappearing once more. They had at least managed to dodge that disaster. But there was still plenty more to be had when it came to Mephistopheles.

Now that there was a bit of time to breathe, Harry aimed his scythe back at Mephistopheles. "Wulfric, meet Mephistopheles." He said. It was the second time he said the creature's name. "M, meet Wulfric." While Harry knew Mephistopheles already knew who Dumbledore was, saying his Headmaster's name would have given power to Mephistopheles.

And saying Mephistopheles' name a third time would have been disastrous.

"_**It is a pleasure to meet the Genius of the team that had crafted the Mirror that was my gateway." **_Mephistopheles' tone was mocking as he bowed before Dumbledore.

Harry glanced towards Dumbledore as the old man stood a bit straighter. "Anything you want to add Wulfric?" he asked.

"I had helped enchant a Mirror with a Seer." Dumbledore said. "I see now that it had been a mistake. My friend had likely been plagued by the visions of such creatures and was unable to do anything."

"Guess I can't be too upset." Harry said. "I was manipulated myself, so there's no need to beat ourselves up over it."

Dumbledore glanced to the side, watching the shorter individual. Dumbledore knew he was rather tall, but it seemed this individual was quite a bit shorter than him, more than the average man anyways. "And what do I call you?" He asked, quite weary of the individual.

Why wouldn't he be? He had summoned an army of undead, and thus far his motives were unclear.

"I am Death." The individual said. Dumbledore would never be able to place the voice. It was entirely foreign and changed, likely by an enchantment upon the cowl he wore. But there was also a bone chilling grasp to his words.

It made Dumbledore's own mortality loom to mind. He hoped to one day retire to a beach and relax, writing a book of his life story. He would put his memoires out to the world and allow them to judge him as they saw fit. But he wasn't ready to retire.

He still had plenty of time to help teach the younger generation.

But being beside one that called himself Death, Dumbledore could actually feel the radiance and the cold embrace. It loomed over him and it made Dumbledore's hand tighten around the Elder Wand. He could feel the Yew and Thestral hair wand yearning to be reunited with its creator.

Instinct would have him lash out at the warrior beside him, but logic quickly tempered it. Death seemed to know what Mephistopheles was better than Dumbledore did. He could see the damage that had been wrought, and yet it still kept coming. Dumbledore himself wasn't sure if he could duplicate such a feat.

But it was the instinct of humans everywhere to fight Death, to try and delay it just a little longer. Dumbledore just had to remind himself that the entity hadn't come for him, not that day. And hopefully he wouldn't be coming after the students when this was all over.

Dumbledore outright dismissed the entity as a student. For one, he was simply too well versed in the necromantic arts. Second was the sheer power Dumbledore felt standing next to him. It was like standing across from Tom again, or standing across from Gellert who had been outright stronger with the Elder Wand in hand.

That sort of well of power was… it was monstrous.

His own, having been built up by age and desperate measures to defeat Gellert, was slightly higher with the augment from the Elder Wand. The thought of the wand returning to its crafter, even if it was not the original, it caused a shiver to run down his spine.

"How did this fight happen here at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked, keeping his wand trained on Mephistopheles.

"Simple, he came out here. I answered the feel of his power when he finally flared it." Death answered. "I persuaded Hogwarts to lend me her aid." As best Dumbledore could tell, it all had been the truth. He dared not try and probe with Legilimency.

"How do we beat it?" Dumbledore asked, mind already racing through entire archives worth of spells. There was plenty of debris for him to transfigure to make attack Mephistopheles.

"Carefully and with a lot of brute force." Death responded. "A creature like M feels no pain, despite the damage done to his body; he doesn't feel a single bit of it. He doesn't die, or at least not through any means I've found. Usually I would recommend fire to weaken him, but at some point he absorbed some magical fire. He took a Flaming Broadsword incantation spell to the chest without so much as a flinch. Most of the damage you see done to him has actually been done by Godric Gryffindor using an unknown spell. Mind you, I'm also weakest at Fire spells."

Dumbledore risked a glance over his shoulder. Across the battlefield, the line scorched into the ground led right to the famous blonde wizard. "Can it be repeated?" he asked, looking towards Mephistopheles again.

Death shook his head. "Doubtful. I didn't hear what Godric was saying and he used his blade to do the deed. Besides, M would expect the attack again."

"Any other weaknesses?" Dumbledore's mind was racing with possibilities.

"None that I know of. But we can't seal him here at Hogwarts, he would break free or corrupt Hogwarts, neither option is appealing. We have to push him back beyond the Veil to the Realm of the Dead. I can open a portal, but he needs to be even weaker. As he is right now, he wouldn't be stopped there." Death said.

Dumbledore nodded glancing around some more.

Mephistopheles touched his chest as it had healed as much as it could. While he still had a gaping hole in him, it was now no longer from his neck to his groin. Instead it was from about the middle of the pectoral area to the middle of the abdomen. Granted, someone could still throw a Quaffle through his chest, it was much less damage at the moment.

His body was once more as whole as it would be. He was disappointed that he could not get the Phoenix. They were rather elusive creatures, but they could not escape from Magical fire if it ensnared them tight enough. Mephistopheles would have one eventually and then he would take his place at The King's side as His Second.

He was also disappointed that he no longer had any armor protecting him. He bounced on his feet a little bit. He felt entirely too light on his feet without it. But if he hadn't had it, he would have likely been blown into even more chunks than he had been. Losing his legs and arms had been bad enough; being blown into chunks would have just pissed him off. It would have taken forever to pull himself back together.

But it was time to get to work once more. With a flaming whip trailing him, he sprinted forward. The undead stiffened as he moved much faster. With a harsh crack, he cut the head of the last dragon clean off its body. He doused his sword in his blood, the sword quickly being set aflame. He dashed into the ranks, hacking this way and that. He was pleased to note that the burning undead did not get back up, and they seemed to spread the fire in their panic as they ran around.

The Pale Rider reacted, trying to use ice to put the fire out, with the old wizard using water to douse the flames. But the fact of the matter was they were fighting a losing battle. Now that he knew what worked, he could go in for the kill that much easier.

Apparently the Pale Rider figured that out as he charged at Mephistopheles, lashing out with the Harvester once more. Mephistopheles parried the blow and was about to run the boy through when a whip of fire lashed him across his unprotected face, surprisingly staggering him.

It would seem the old man had some strength left to him.

Dumbledore still wasn't entirely sold on the matter. A creature from beyond the Veil of Death stood before him. It was always his belief that they could not pass through to the Realm of the Living. And, even if it could, it was after the individual that called himself Death. Why not just send them elsewhere? Why not have the two settle their battles as far away from Hogwarts as he could get them?

But then other thoughts plagued his mind as he pivoted and twisted his old body as quickly as he could, conjuring and transfiguring as quickly as he could recite the spells non-verbally. What would happen if Death, if he was the physical embodiment of that aspect, were to be killed? Why was this Mephistopheles creature so bent on killing Death?

For rescuing Fawkes, Dumbledore was inclined to give Death the benefit of the doubt. And Mephistopheles was doing nothing for his case of possible innocence. Mentioning Dumbledore's project, the Mirror of Erised, as a gateway also made Dumbledore inclined to believe that this thing needed to be stopped.

"Reduce all of Creation to Ash, Burn the Skies and Rain Fire Down upon the Earth, Boil the Seas and Oceans, Heaven and Earth End in Ash!" Dumbledore bellowed out. He lashed out with the Elder Wand, cleaving a blade of fire into the air and making it blast forward into Mephistopheles.

The heat was such that he was wreathed in flames once more, flames that threatened to engulf him. He banished the flames from him. He noticed the wall of ice that had sprung forth to protect the undead and Death.

Mephistopheles had no such protections. He was forced to take the blunt of the blast full on, an angry looking would being traced from his right shoulder down to his left him. It bled freely and openly, flames erupting from his blood as it spilled down his body.

Harry turned to his headmaster. "We've established fire doesn't work!" he barked at the old man. If he was honest, in that instant he was terrified of Dumbledore. The old man's spell had been extremely powerful.

Harry had been in the back blast of it. He hadn't taken anywhere near the full brunt of it and he had felt it threaten to consume him, despite the shield of ice he had put up. The barrier around Hogwarts had been cleaved open both in the sky and behind Mephistopheles from the attack. The barrier quickly repaired itself thankfully, but it did not change the fact of the matter.

The fact Dumbledore had used the 'Reduce All of Creation to Ash' incantation spell without the full verse told Harry just how powerful Dumbledore was when it came to fire Magic. The full incantation was almost three times the length of what Dumbledore had shorted it down to with very difficult parts to speak at times.

It was also intended to be spoken in Ancient Babylonian.

The fact Dumbledore had taken such powerful magic and made it battle capable was… terrifying. But at the same time it gave Harry hope. He didn't have to like Dumbledore to gain hope from his abilities. Harry was certain that in some time, they would be able to beat down Mephistopheles plenty enough to win.

Harry allowed the Harvester to slide back along the Dominion Gauntlet. He began to focus his magic into the ground, letting it spread all around him as he did so. He began to command the pieces of the Undead. As his magic touched those that were still whole, like Adrian and Salazar, he mentally discarded them as unneeded.

His eyes closed slightly as he began to will the pieces back together. There were too many pieces that were missing or too damaged for him to build something even remotely resembling what they had once been. But for what he had planned, what he had would be enough.

The pieces around him began to float in the air, twisting slightly. The blood soaking the ground drifted with them. Unseen to Harry, they began to make an abomination. Pieces began to combine to form arms fusing to a torso of meat taken from a dozen different owners formed.

If Harry was looking, he would see that his monstrosity was as tall as Mephistopheles and just as wide. It had four arms and a low, centaur like body that was supported on about eight legs, the front two legs being made to look like arms as well. Its head was a dragon's head, roaring and snapping, even if the intellect was no longer there.

But Harry made one mistake. He had closed his eyes.

Mephistopheles was suddenly in front of him, blazing whip already sailing through the air to cleave him in half.

"Look out!" Adrian yelled, rushing forward. The young squire had seen Mephistopheles start to move, and there could have only been one target for the creature: Harry. He had started to run when Mephistopheles had made his move. Yet he felt too slow as the whip came crashing down.

'_I __**need**__ to help him!' _Adrian's thoughts screamed at him. He was too slow! Suddenly there was a rush of air flowing through Adrian and he was at Harry's side instantly.

Adrian didn't know what had happened. He would never know that he had performed a bout of accidental magic. A bout that he should have never performed, but did so nonetheless. But he didn't care either about what happened. There was no time to think on it either.

The young squire shoved Harry out of the way, putting himself in danger. The Golden axe hefted back behind his body, and he threw it with all his might over his head.

His last vision was the whip of fire barreling down upon him before agony.

"No!" Harry bellowed out from the ground as he watched Adrian split in half from Mephistopheles' whip. The golden axe buried itself in Mephistopheles' forehead, lodged in by the young squire's last defiant act.

Harry was forced to watch as a relative burned to ash because he had been careless, because he had been weak.

Harry had desperately hoped to speak with Adrian when it was all through. He wanted to learn about his family through a relative, even if they were centuries apart. The Potter Family had a long standing tradition of burning their deceased, meaning Harry couldn't raise anyone. Adrian had been a fluke, a squib that had fallen in battle at Hogwarts, who his family didn't care anything about.

And now that fluke was gone.

Something inside of Harry simply snapped. It irrevocably broke beyond all repair, and Harry felt such rage. Such icy fury built inside of him. The blood upon the ground began to freeze around him and spread away from him, even as Mephistopheles yanked out the axe from his forehead.

Harry gave his own primal bellow of defiance before he surged his icy powers out. They took Mephistopheles in the chest, blasting him a ways away. But Harry wasn't done. He slashed his hand down and lances of Ice rained down upon Mephistopheles.

The creature moved and Harry raised an icy wall to block his path with spikes shooting from the wall. A second wall formed and Harry brought his fists together with his thumbs against one another. The two walls slammed inwards upon Mephistopheles, skewering the creature even as he tried to keep the two walls separated.

Harry rapidly opened his hands, causing the ice to explode out all around Mephistopheles, further piercing his body more with icy shards.

He spun towards his massive abomination and blasted it with ice, letting it shape around the abomination. Crystalline armor formed around it, protecting it. "Kill!" Harry bellowed at it, pointing to Mephistopheles.

The legs dragged it forward quickly, crossing over the battlefield with thundering footsteps from the mass. An icy broadsword swung downwards at Mephistopheles only to be caught upon the metal sword the monster wielded.

Mephistopheles growled as he launched the sword up and away from him. He ran his blade over his wounded body, coating it in his blood and with a swipe of his sword, the blood ignited once more. He hacked at the monstrosity that the Pale Rider had crafted.

He backed away from its grabbing hands. Three more swords of ice formed in its hands and Mephistopheles formed his flaming whip upon all four fingers of his hand. He lashed out with it, striking the icy ruthlessly as he maneuvered around the slower beast.

Worse yet, its arms moved quite swiftly around each other. It was capable of blocking his attacks and attacking him at the same time, evident when he felt two of those broadswords slice into his body, looking to bisect him at the waist.

Mephistopheles however wasn't one to give up, the tissues reconnected and he charged head on, slamming into the abomination and staggering it despite its size and mass. They were about equal in height, but the legs gave it more mass than he did.

He felt his body pinned to the abomination, its body rearing up and grabbing his legs with its front legs. They were shaped like arms and allowed it to grab with them. Mephistopheles struggled, thrashing even as he was pinned to the creature's body. But it had a grip on his ankles that he just could not break.

Mephistopheles roared in frustration as it grabbed the protrusions that had been his wings before they were utterly ruined by spell fire. It began to pull, making his body go taut and Mephistopheles began to claw and punch at the creature, even attempting to slash it.

It caught his arms and began to pull even more viciously. He could feel his body straining against the forces that were pulling him apart. His shoulder popped out of socket and the flesh began to tear, shadowy tendrils latching onto either side and attempting to pull it back together.

Mephistopheles began to bend his knees and his elbows, trying to relax some of the strain off of his arms. He snarled at the ice creature as he began to struggle more, trying to break its grip on his body. He slammed his head into its ice covered skull.

Rivets of blood began to leak down his face but he once more slammed his head into the creature's forehead. He could not back down. He would escape; he would slaughter the Pale Rider where he stood. He slammed his forehead into the creature's forehead once more. Ice cracked and melted from the force and heat. Mephistopheles bashed his skull against the creature's forehead one last time, utterly shattering the ice.

He spat a glob of his flaming blood into the forehead of the undead abomination. The results were instant as it let him go, beginning to thrash about, clutching at its burning forehead.

"_**I have had enough!" **_Mephistopheles roared out, leaping up and driving his sword through the creature and quickly igniting it. The abomination that the Pale Rider had created began to burn to ash from the inside out.

Mephistopheles stared across the battlefield at the Pale Rider and the aged Wizard. It had been enough playing around. He would kill them all. He wished he could offer the Pale Rider's broken body before The King when He made His way to this world.

Mephistopheles launched himself into the air. Despite his wings being ruined, they still kept him aloft, the magic of flight not being taken away from him with the destruction of the feathers. Instead, the shadowy energy hanging from his wings in wisps of black smoke acted as enough to keep him flying.

"_**This is the end of all of you Pale Rider. I should have done this from the very beginning!" **_Mephistopheles roared out as he began to gather energy to his hand, condensing it into a lance of pure magical power. He would have one shot, and he needed to make certain that his lance burrowed deep and true.

But he didn't aim at the Pale Rider. He would make the Old Wizard pay as well. The devastation and ruination of the land would mark His entrance for all to see. The Lance began to grow strong, spinning slowly. It would take time.

Trained eyes darted to where Mephistopheles was aiming. "It's aiming for where the Ley Lines cross!" Salazar barked out.

Dumbledore's face lost all color and he began to chant throwing up every powerful shield he could think of, conjuring both those made of solid objects and pure energy. But even he knew it wasn't going to be enough, not with the pure power growing behind the lance.

Death rushed up and began to help, creating walls of ice. "What will happen if that energy strikes the crossing point?" the avatar of Death asked, even as shield after shield began to form up.

Dumbledore's face was grim as he looked up. "Destruction. Pure destruction as the lands are vaporized in a catastrophic explosion. With as many Ley Lines that converge where Hogwarts is built, we're looking at the destruction of a good portion of Scotland."

Harry turned, pausing in his work as Dumbledore's words took hold on him. They had no way of getting to Mephistopheles. None of them could fly, no dragons were left, and Harry had used most of the spare parts on creating his abomination. He couldn't build another one swift enough to stop Mephistopheles. He sank to his knees and punched the ground as the realizations took him.

They had failed.

They were all going to die.

-End Chapter-

A/N: Are we excited yet for the conclusion to this fight? Next chapter has the conclusions!

Now, before anyone rips into me about Dumbledore, I would like to point out a few things. First, he's an old man who I have purposely made out to be quite intelligent and scholarly. Second, he has no reason to hold back on Mephistopheles or the Undead. They aren't quite alive. Third, this is the man that holds the Elder Wand. He's bound to be powerful.

Regarding Dumbledore, I have no feelings one way or the other. I see him as an old man that genuinely thinks he's doing good in the world, but no one rips open the blinders he has on from time to time. I'm hoping this story shows that.

Hunter Berserker Wolf


	25. Book 1: Chapter 25

_Last Time: Albus Dumbledore has arrived at Hogwarts, and after a brief moment of misunderstanding, has begun helping Harry take down Mephistopheles. Though they managed to stop Mephistopheles from consuming Fawkes the Phoenix, they have not been able to stop the monstrosity. Now, despite Adrian Potter's sacrifice to keep Harry alive, Mephistopheles is bent of complete annihilation of Hogwarts and the surrounding lands, attempting to blow up the intersection of magical Ley Lines Hogwarts was built upon._

Book One: Death

Chapter 25

Harry didn't know what to do. Despite all of his best efforts, they had lost. Mephistopheles only needed a little bit more time and then he would destroy the intersection and with it Hogwarts and those inside.

"_So that's it huh Harry? Giving up?"_

Harry glanced to his right. Crouching there looked to be the spectral form of Adrian Potter. "We can't stop him this time." He said in a soft whisper.

Adrian shook his head. "_Not good enough Harry. You're a Potter. Where others quit and fail, you look for new ways to press on. Where fear will freeze others, you tame your fear regardless of the cost."_

"But how can I reach him?" Harry wasn't certain if the image of Adrian was something caused by a hallucination or if it was his powers of Death, or something else.

Adrian chuckled softly, a warm sound coming from the young squire's projection. "_You already have the answers Harry. You can win against Mephistopheles; you and you alone, can kill him. Not Salazar, not Godric, and not Dumbledore. They can help you, but it comes down to you to make the killing blow."_

"I'm not strong enough Adrian. Maybe if I had another year or two to get stronger…" Harry trailed off.

"_That's not good enough Harry."_ Adrian reached out and touched Harry's forehead. "_Get stronger Harry. You know what you're missing, and without it you won't win here today. You know how to get what you're missing also. You have all the tools and knowledge you need to win today, you need to stop being afraid." _Adrian smiled. "_Now stand up, and show everyone the power of a Potter being the Pale Rider."_

Adrian disappeared and the sounds of the battlefield came to Harry's ears once more. He could once again hear Dumbledore chanting shield spell after shield spell, with Salazar striding over to help.

Harry got to his feet and looked up briefly to Mephistopheles. "Okay Adrian." Harry said and took a deep breath. He tried to push back the fear; he didn't have a lot of time. But it was so hard. Despair gripped him at the idea of failure.

Wait… Despair.

Harry's shoulders squared and his eyes held the same defiant glare once more in the emerald flames that the cowl showed. That was it. He could win. He still didn't know if it was a subconscious reminder, his powers of Death, or a hallucination that showed him Adrian once more. And in the end, it didn't matter.

It put some fire back into him once more.

Harry turned and ran for the nearest tower, ignoring Dumbledore's words. A pillar of ice shot up from under his feet, propelling him into the air. He lashed out with the Harvester, connecting himself to the tower and reeling himself up. He flung himself into the air after the Harvester was once again fully back on the gauntlet, and he repeated the process.

Hook the Harvester, reel it in, fling himself up once it was reeled in. He did it three times in total before he stood on the roof of a tower.

He backed up to the far side of the tower, extending the Harvester out into scythe form. He spun it a few times, getting a good feel for it. He had to disconnect the magic building from Mephistopheles' energy lance. A spear or javelin would make the distance, but be unable to sever anything.

And anything that would sever the connection wouldn't make the distance traditionally.

Harry took a deep breath. He only had one shot at this, and he would make it count. He allowed the powers of Death flow through him, spilling over the artifacts. He pulsed the power out, calling out to the last 'artifact' of Death he was missing. With all the others combined, he would summon the last.

Harry sprinted across the rooftops. He allowed the despair to fill him but he did not let it consume him. It was okay to feel it. It wasn't acceptable to have it consume him. When he reached the other end of the rooftop, he leapt off into a spin. The Harvester, in scythe form, spun with him and he allowed it to fly.

The Harvester spun the distance to Mephistopheles and slashed through the wrist holding the energy lance and a wing before embedding into the creature's back. The unstable lance detonated with the force of its build of energy, blasting Mephistopheles back to the ground quite harshly.

Harry went into freefall, his spin making it impossible for him to see the detonation of the lance. But he most certainly heard it. He had one shot, one shot only. His despair filled him and he embraced it. He couldn't allow it to control him as he plummeted.

"DESPAIR!" he bellowed out, letting it all out in that desperate shout.

In the depths of the Forbidden Forest, lying down on a bed of pine needles and loose dirt, an old Thestral lay there, its wings tucked against its back. Its head down. It had accepted that its Master would never call for it again.

More than three centuries had passed since it last heard the call, since it was last rode into battle. The last Master to call it had let it free, unable to find its next Master. So it had followed its instincts, going to where a herd of its kind was.

Of course, even amongst its kind, it did not fit. It was powerful, anything could tell that. And despite the lack of contact of the other Thestrals, it stayed and acted as a protector. It was not always successful as their enemies had grown to be more numerous. The spiders in the last fifty or so years had been particularly troublesome.

Herding instinct demanded no less of it to be a protector. And while it had lost a few of the little ones, it had done its hardest. But now it was time for it to pass on. This body, kept alive by its Master's magic was through. It was time to ride with the wind once more, to go wherever it was taken.

The Thestral's only eye, white and milky with blindness, closed slowly.

A pulse of its Master's power caused that eye to snap open. It struggled to rise to its feet that pulse of power igniting a spark of fire within the old Thestral.

It needed to live, it needed to rise. It could not delay for its Master. But it was so weak, so tired. It struggled to step forward, it struggled to build up to a gallop and move through the forest.

"DESPAIR!"

That desperate cry of need surged through the Thestral. It could not delay, the Master was in danger! Magic surged through it, erupting into pale green flames all around it before it vanished with not a whisper of sound.

Only to reappear, galloping across the skies to the plunging Pale Rider as Despair, the Pale Steed of the Apocalypse.

What had once been grey skin hanging on a gaunt and skeletal body, even for a Thestral, was a pale alabaster white taut over a powerful form. Where it had once been marred with countless scars from protecting the other Thestrals, the skin was whole and hale once more. Pale green acidic green fire surrounded the ankles, spreading out over the air like some sort of platform as the steed thundered towards the Rider. Its mane and tail was formed of the same green fire, whipping with the wind.

Harry flared out the invisibility cloak, allowing it to momentarily suspend his fall. It was just enough for Despair to gallop underneath him and Harry to land astride the steed. He bounced up and down as Despair galloped full tilt into a turn. He clung with his legs and arms, the flames not harming him in the slightest.

And like with Dust before it, if Harry closed his eyes he could see from Despair's eyes, or in this case, its sole eye. The other was forever lost, and not even the rebirth as Despair could heal the other crimson orb.

Harry felt a surge of power well up inside of him. His reserves which had been going on fumes for a while now surged inside of him. He could feel his magic changing as he became completed once more. For the first time in a thousand years, Death was once more in full regalia and astride Despair.

Despair fell into a dive its legs no longer pumping at the air as its powerful wings stretched out to either side of Harry. Harry gripped tighter to his mount, not expecting the dive. But soon Despair straightened out and was running full tilt again, this time on the ground.

And heading straight for Mephistopheles.

Harry had never ridden a horse or Thestral running at full tilt before. He bounced up and down upon Despair's back as the powerful muscles propelled both mount and rider forward. Harry reveled in the wind rippling over their form. It was a sensation like no other, and Harry knew it stemmed from Despair's magic changing his own.

Despair was the Wind given form and purpose. But it was also a familiar of Death, meaning its magic fueled Harry, it strengthened and empowered him. It worked both ways, but on a much lesser account towards Despair's side of things.

It was a miniscule drain for Harry.

It also made Harry feel like they could win once more.

The young Potter heir lowered his head as they surged forward. He held out his left hand and the Harvester's shaft extended out towards his hand at his command. His hands clasped around it and he yanked it free from Mephistopheles, even as the monstrosity came up with his sword swinging. Mephistopheles looked to cleave both Rider and Mount in two.

Just as the blade would connect however, they both vanished in a burst of green fire, only to reappear moments later yards behind Mephistopheles. Despair reared up onto its hind legs, turning even as its wings extended out to their full impressive height.

And Harry holding the scythe pointed towards the ground, glaring at Mephistopheles undoubtedly made for an intimidating appearance.

Harry formed the Harvester into a spear and passed it over to his right hand. "Let's go Despair." He said and lightly pressed his heels into his steed's side. The Thestral responded well, legs thundering across the battlefield towards Mephistopheles once more.

Mephistopheles looked to cut Despair's legs out from under them, but Harry raised a large chunk of ice into the swing of the sword. It bit into the ice deeply, but was incapable of completely moving though. Harry surged his powers to it, hardening and solidifying the ice.

Despair leapt over the block of ice, clearing it effortlessly. Its hind legs had barely touched the ground before it reared forward onto its front legs, nearly bucking Harry in the process. Both legs lashed out, striking Mephistopheles in his head quite harshly. Harry plunged the Harvester into his throat and quickly yanked free before Despair galloped off out of the direct line of attack.

Despair slowed to a trot, turning back towards Mephistopheles some distance away. Harry allowed the spear to turn back into a scythe once more. He shifted his seat upon Despair and he held the scythe down to the side. They would only have one chance at sending Mephistopheles back.

And it was finally time for Harry to open the portal.

He channeled his Death Magic into the Harvester; he focused it upon the blade, the edge of which took on a black tint. Hindsight told Harry that he probably should have done this on his return trip from retrieving the Harvester from Mephistopheles' body, but it couldn't be helped.

Despair charged across the fields once more. Harry clung tightly to the galloping mount. His heart thundered in his chest. He could end this, here and now. His blood pounded in his ears, the sound of battle drowning itself out.

The Harvester showed him what to do, constantly. It gave him a migraine, his temples throbbed, but there was nothing that could be done about that.

Harry focused on then and there, on Mephistopheles. He deflected the sword with a lance of ice. As Despair moved past, circling around the creature, Harry blasted him with a wave of frost that quickly spread over his limbs. It wouldn't stop him long, but it might slow him down a few precious moments.

Harry tore through the air with the scythe, ripping open a jagged tear in the very air. A black portal opened behind Mephistopheles as Harry and Despair raced past him. A powerful vacuum took hold sucking at everything in front of it, trying to drag them all in past the Veil of Death.

Only Despair remained unfazed by the gale force winds drawing them all in. The Pale Steed was completely at one with the wind.

Harry watched, putting the Harvester away, as the remaining ranks of his undead attempting to hold onto something, some burying their weapons into the grounds in an attempt to find a handhold. Salazar had lashed his whip around Godric, just under his arms. The whip was wound around Salazar's wrist as he clutched to a tree on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. A goblin's blade came free and it was sucked up into the portal, shouting the entire way.

Even Dumbledore had no footing to speak of.

"Wulfric!" Harry yelled out over the whipping winds as Dumbledore drew closer. Harry reached out and caught the old man by the forearm before pulling up, dragging his Headmaster up onto Despair with him.

"Thank you." Dumbledore spoke over the whipping winds as he held on, glancing over his shoulder.

Harry glanced with him as Despair trotted around to offer its side to the portal. There, with his sword buried into the ground and clutching onto it with both hands was Mephistopheles, refusing to be sucked into the portal.

"We need to push him through. That portal won't be open long Wulfric." Harry said loudly. They couldn't get closer without risking Despair again. At this point, Mephistopheles might try to consume the steed, even if it cost him going back beyond the Veil.

It would likely take Harry and Dumbledore with, meaning it would be over for all of them anyways.

"Any ideas?" Dumbledore asked his eyes remaining focused upon Mephistopheles.

"I was hoping you might have one." Harry answered honestly as he sent out a lance of ice at Mephistopheles. He aimed it down, yet the gale like winds still pulled the tip of it up, causing it to whip past Mephistopheles.

Dumbledore drew his wand and aimed it down at Mephistopheles, extending his arm fully. Harry could feel the elder wizard's power begin to build and surge up. "I have one." He said his blue eyes hardening as he focused.

There were no words to the spell that Dumbledore cast. Whether that was because it was a spell without an incantation, or Dumbledore did not wish for Harry to find out the incantation, Harry would never know. All Harry did know, was that Dumbledore's wand suddenly erupted with fierce flames. Serpents, dragons, chimera, phoenixes, all seemed to be within those flames as they surged forward at Mephistopheles before those flames condensed into a massive phoenix that turned what it passed to ash.

Harry held his arm up to cover his eyes slightly. His heart was racing as he once again beheld Dumbledore's power. Harry recognized the spell despite Dumbledore's silence. The Tomes found within the Room of Requirements had been most beneficial in the regard of actually recognizing spells. Harry found himself carefully watching as Dumbledore used Fiendfyre.

It spoke volumes of the control the elder wizard had that he risked the Cursed Fire near the school.

It scorched across the ground, incinerating and melting all in its way. Worse, it was done rapidly as the open portal sucked at the flames, forcing them towards Mephistopheles. Dumbledore held the spell for maybe ten seconds before he allowed it to stop spewing from his wand.

Mephistopheles still clung to his sword, molten slag all that remained of most of it. But enough of the blade remained for the creature to hold on, despite the way it dug into his hand. Harry noted that Mephistopheles' horns were burnt off, mere stubs of what they once were. The wings the creature had used were also burned to small nubs, but Mephistopheles was still alive, clawed hand gripping the ground in an attempt to drag himself forward.

Harry looked on with his teeth gritting. They needed to force Mephistopheles through. A monumentally stupid idea came to him, but Harry couldn't conceivably come up with better in the few short moments that they had.

The Harvester only opened brief portals. It was a failsafe really; it kept something else from coming through to destroy them. But then the Harvester would need, for lack of a better term, to cool down for an hour.

They wouldn't last another hour.

Harry slipped off of Despair, the winds sucking at him before his feet could hit the ground. With no purchase, he quickly crossed the scorched ground towards Mephistopheles. He extended both arms out and in both hands quickly formed ice swords that extended deep into the ground, slowing his movement.

He was now about ten feet from Mephistopheles and exactly aligned with the creature. It snarled at him, words dying in the stronger winds at the entrance of the portal.

Harry looked beyond, through the Veil. He could see movement beyond. The portal was attracting attention.

Steeling his resolve, Harry let go of the ice swords, floating over Mephistopheles. He grabbed one of the boney spikes that had once been the creature's wings. There wasn't much room, just enough for his hand to wrap around.

The harsh whipping winds tugged at the Invisibility cloak, but Harry still pulled himself up. He stared into Mephistopheles' face, as much room between them as Harry could possibly get. "Get out of my realm!" he barked out.

The Harvester extended out from the Dominion Gauntlet, the eight inch blade all Harry really needed. He quickly slashed Mephistopheles' sword, Harry's blade sliding effortlessly through the metal as he let go of Mephistopheles and rolled off the creature.

The Harvester dug into the ground as it formed into a spear that Harry clutched at with one hand. He had it fully extended to its full length with about a foot out of the ground for Harry to grab ahold of. The sucking winds of the Portal wouldn't yield to any of them.

Memories flashed in Harry's eyes, even as he dragged himself up to hold on better with both hands. The Harvester sticking in the ground as a Pale Rider was sucking back through. A plain spear thrust into sands, something similar sucking at him.

The memories refused to release him. Worse, Harry had no idea where they were coming from. The Harvester was not doing this.

"_**I will not be bested!" **_Pain lanced up Harry's leg and he looked down to see a flaming whip coiled around his leg several times. It burned through the trousers he wore, and it seared into his leg viciously.

Harry cried out in pain. He grabbed tighter with the Dominion Gauntlet and released with his right hand. He formed an ice sword, trying to muster as much magic as he could. He swung the blade at the fire whip, only for the blade to melt.

It was not enchanted and could not harm the fire.

Harry could see Mephistopheles slowly dragging himself up the length of the whip of fire. Another few feet and the creature would be clear of the portal. Harry could see the edges of the portal into that bleak abyss wavering. It was about to close.

His heart pounded in his chest as he took a look to the Harvester, it stuck into the ground like a faithful anchor.

Harry breathed heavily as he began to slacken his hand. He would die but Mephistopheles would be stopped. The release of power from his death would beyond the Veil of Death, the Lock upon it remaining firmly in place.

Despair, Dust, and the Harvester would all still be in this realm. A new Pale Rider would be born, they would have to find new artifacts or make them.

Harry let go, it was the logical choice.

A booming crack sounded and someone grabbed Harry's arm. He glanced up to see Dumbledore's left hand around his, holding onto the Gauntlet, a whip of fire and his foot anchoring the man to the Harvester.

Dumbledore had seen the look in those emerald flames, shrouded by shadows. It was one he had seen before in Aberforth's blue eyes long, long ago. It was that of a child shouldering a burden that an adult should have. It was that of a sacrifice that should never be asked for, but simply was going to be.

Dumbledore couldn't allow that to happen. He had made many mistakes, some he would never be able to rectify. But he would never allow another child to have those eyes if he could help it. He didn't know the age of Death, and perhaps that was the point. Death was ageless, it came for all.

Apparation in and out of Hogwarts was impossible, even for a Headmaster. The wards could be tampered with to allow it, but it threatened to weaken the ward structure. But like the young warrior early, Dumbledore didn't Apparate through the wards.

He Apparated from one point _inside _Hogwarts to another point _inside_ Hogwarts.

He felt the cold biting against his leg of Death's weapons. The enchantments upon it were quite formidable and Dumbledore knew that if he touched it with flesh he was as good as dead. Perhaps Death also meant to tell him to let go, but the point was quite moot.

The Portal snapped shut with Mephistopheles landing on the grounds of Hogwarts no worse for the wear.

The flaming whip uncoiled from Death's leg and Dumbledore was quick to pull him to his feet, extinguishing his own whip of fire. Dumbledore could see Death wanted to berate him, to possibly do something that they would both regret. Instead, Death shook his head. "Thank you." Came from Death's lips.

But the battle wasn't won yet. Mephistopheles rose to his feet, flaming whip singing through the air, aimed for Death. A spell was on Dumbledore's lips, but it wasn't going to be quick enough as he brought the Elder Wand to bear.

He used his left arm, still clasped around Death's gauntleted left arm to spin Death out of the way. Pain lanced up his left arm as his right hand came up. "_Bombarda Maxima!"_

The over-powered blasting Hex took Mephistopheles in the upper chest, blasting him some distance away. Dumbledore fell to one knee, seeing his left arm on the ground. He grimaced as he clutched at the arm, just above where it was severed.

"Wulfric!" Came Death's panicked shout as he quickly scrambled to his feet and used his powers over ice to seal and numb the wound.

"I'll be fine." Dumbledore replied, grimacing in pain again as his arm throbbed at the chill. He noted that Death winced and clutched his head a moment. "What about you?" he asked.

The hand came away and a pained grunt sounded. "It's nothing." It was a bold faced lie and Dumbledore knew it.

But he decided not to press. "Can you open another portal?" Dumbledore asked as he struggled to his feet.

Death grabbed his weapon; it coiled around his hand and quickly came from the ground. "No, not for another hour." He replied.

Dumbledore had been worried about that, and he knew what Death did. They could not last another hour against Mephistopheles. It was taking all they had just to keep up. Dumbledore could see Salazar moving over to them.

"Do you have any plans?" he asked Death.

Harry thought on the question from his Headmaster. When he had asked if Harry was alright, Harry had lied. He knew Dumbledore knew it was a lie, but Harry still didn't say anything. In truth, it was more memories, memories that should never be his under any circumstance.

Worse, it showed magic the likes Harry had never seen before, dangerous Magic. And it was all they had left to try.

Harry extended the Harvester into a spear as he watched Mephistopheles rise up from the ground, his head barely on. Harry inhaled and slowly exhaled. "One." He shifted the spear to his right hand and stepped forward.

Harry had no idea where these memories were coming from. He was suddenly a Persian Vizier, casting ritualistic magic. He was a Babylonian Priest, chanting to the Gods and offering plunging a ceremonial dagger into the stomach of a man. He was an Egyptian Priest reading from a thick tome made of solid gold.

Magic swirled around him. He knew instinctively what each and every one of those Wizards were casting. They were casting magic that, as Death, he should never try. If Dust was there, perhaps the crow would have warned him away from it.

But he was desperate. And they could not last another hour.

Harry began to recite the words upon the Harvester, the words coming in a dozen different languages, his magic swirling upon the Harvester. And it wasn't just any Magic either. It was Soul Magic. Magic that did not strike the physical.

A dozen different spells were placed upon the Harvester. Harry could feel the magic tugging at something within him, held back just barely. He had no way of knowing that it was trying to take his soul, that his magic was just barely holding the spells back.

He stepped into the throw, letting the Harvester fly across the field of battle once more. Harry stumbled to his knees, even as the Harvester struck Mephistopheles dead on where the heart might be of a human.

The magic released violently. Tendrils began to lash out of Mephistopheles and he seemed to be drawn in towards the Harvester. A spectral embodiment had been blasted out of Mephistopheles and the physical body began to degrade quickly, turning into an inky black puddle that the Harvester fell in. Tendrils wrapped around the spear.

Harry wasn't sure what absorbed what. All he knew was that the bone colored ivory of the Harvester had turned to pure obsidian in color.

The pale blue spectral form of Mephistopheles roared before shooting at Harry. It was once more whole, armored, and armed. Harry had no time to move except to bring his arms up before it crashed over him, a shower of blue dust floating over him.

Harry slowly lowered his arms as the dust slowly settled and vanished. He rose to his feet, stumbling a moment. His magic was low, and his body ached.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry moved towards the Harvester slowly. If he were to hazard a guess… "I think… I destroyed M's soul."

And the body was incapable of being supported without the soul.

Harry cautiously approached the black Harvester. It coiled upon itself, looking like a serpent once more, the head of which resting and concealing the blade. He cautiously bent down to pick it up. His fingers brushed along it and soon the inky blackness absorbed inside of the Harvester, the weapon becoming the ivory color he had come to know it as.

Harry chuckled softly as he lifted it up and allowed it to form back upon the Dominion Gauntlet. His chuckles soon became full blown hysterical laughter. Adrenaline began to fade from his form. "We won Wulfric. We won."

Even Dumbledore gave a few chuckles. "Yes, I do believe we did."

Despair trotted when Harry gave a brief whistle. He climbed up onto his mount and sat there, looking down upon Dumbledore.

"What now?" Dumbledore asked, tucking his wand away. "What will you do now Death?"

Harry shook his head. "Go home, heal up, and wait for the next battle. There are more than just M beyond the Veil of Death Wulfric. And now I know how to destroy them for good. Perhaps I can make it to the end of this Millennia now that I know how to kill them."

"You do know it's Albus, right?" Dumbledore asked with a bemused expression on his face.

Harry nodded his head slowly. "I know, but names hold power Wulfric. And you are a powerful wizard. I would hate to see you fighting for the enemy."

Dumbledore looked around the grounds for a moment before back to Harry, even if the old man would never know Harry's identity as Death. "I could stop you. Death Magic is illegal in Great Britain."

Harry shook his head. "You could, but by the time you got your wand around to bare, I will have already escaped, or ordered the rest of my forces to stop you."

Dumbledore looked around at the various undead making their way towards the two. "What of them?"

Harry looked to them, Godric being supported by Salazar. "What did I miss?" The blonde warrior wizard asked.

Harry chuckled softly. He sat up straighter. "Hear me Undead!" he roared out. "For your services, I offer you a period of twenty four hours to yourselves! Return to this spot in twenty four hours, that is my first command." Harry allowed his voice to die down. He knew it would drift over the wind. "My last is that you don't cause any trouble in those twenty four hours."

Death pressed his heels into Despair's ribs and the horse trotted off. Pale green fire consumed them and they disappeared. Where to, Dumbledore did not know. He turned to face the two Founders, noting that Godric seemed to be holding onto a piece of scrap metal with rubies embedded in it.

He ran a hand over his face. "Please tell me that's not your sword."

Godric chuckled sheepishly. "I'm afraid it is Headmaster."

Dumbledore shook his head. Perhaps Godric would be willing to say where something of his was to donate to the school.

He turned and exhaled heavily before he picked up his severed arm. He needed to release the lockdown and see if Madam Pomfrey could put his arm back on. Then, he would sit in his office and have as many lemon drops as he had left in his bowl.

He desperately craved one of the sweets.

-_Scene Break -_

The outcome of the battle did not go unnoticed. Deep, beyond the Veil of Death, a shimmering pool was being watched as the Pale Rider threw his weapon, slamming an unknown spell into one of their own.

Another creature, its body small and lithe covered in black chitin armor stepped before a dais, leading up to a throne upon which sat a figure covered in shadows. "_**My Liege, send us. We, Your Hand, can be there in moments and kill the Pale Rider to break the Lock that holds Your Magnificence back."**_

From beside the throne, a large warrior in bulky heavy chitin armor with a gleaming halberd stepped forward. "_**No! Your course of action is too rash! We must find out what happened!"**_

A hissing sound, accompanied by the sound of rattling like what would be found on an adult rattlesnake was heard. "_**And your course is too cowardly! The Pale Rider is weak!"**_

"**Enough!"** A deep voice boomed and both warriors turned to face the shadow covered throne in a deep bow. "**Azmodeus is correct, Beriel. Zoltan made his mistakes, he toyed with the Pale Rider and in the end he paid dearly for it. But it has not been without benefit. We now know that the Pale Rider can **_**kill**_** us. We will cease our activities against him, for now. Find out how the Pale Rider killed Zoltan, once we know how, we can plan. We do not have long, and failure will not be tolerated."**

The smaller of the two creatures bowed lower before slinking away, vanishing into the shadows of the realm.

"**You have something else, Azmodeus?"** The voice questioned.

"_**I do not trust Beriel, My King."**_ Azmodeus answered.

"**Beriel will follow orders Azmodeus, as you learned how to. He is young, but powerful. He will learn."**

"_**Of course My King."**_ Azmodeus said before backing away carefully. He would follow the unspoken command to watch Beriel.

The last general of Their King had the same orders regarding Azmodeus. Only he had ended up dead with Azmodeus taking his place.

The same would not happen to Azmodeus.

-Chapter End-

A/N: So… yeah… End of this long fight. We have a bit of a glimpse to those beyond the Veil of Death also.

Next chapter should wrap this story up and answer a few questions. I make no promises though, but it shouldn't extend past another two chapters if it ends up longer.

HBW


	26. Book 1: Chapter 26

_Last Time: With the reunification of Despair, Harry was able to finally defeat Mephistopheles. And in a surprising move, using unknown Soul Magic, Harry was able to actually kill the enemy. It was not without its price however. Albus Dumbledore has lost his left arm, the Harvester has absorbed the physical form that Mephistopheles once was, and Harry now has mysterious memories from an unknown source filling his mind. Now, with Hogwarts safe, Harry has disappeared atop Despair, ordering the rest of his army to enjoy the next twenty-four hours to themselves._

Book One: Death

Chapter 26

Pale green fire erupted upon the seventh floor. Despair trotted out passing by Barnabas the Barmy. Harry quickly dismounted from his steed and gently patted Despair's neck. "The Shrieking Shack, go there Despair. I will send one of my house elves to take care of you." He said and watched as the Pale Steed quickly trotted off.

A caw sounded momentarily. Harry glanced to his right to see Dust at a window, picking up a mostly empty sack and bringing it over to him. He took it from the crow's beak. "Thank you my friend." He said, lightly stroking Dust's head softly.

Harry opened the Room of Requirements quickly, revealing a lavatory. He made his way to the sink. "I call upon the Head of the Servants of this establishment!" he said with a firm order.

There was a small pop, the House Elf from before showing up. Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak, the Resurrection Stone, the Dominion Gauntlet and Harvester. He removed the Potter Heir signet ring from the bag and put it on before stuffing his Deathly Artifacts back into the bag once more.

Harry turned to face the House Elf and took to one knee. "I need you to take this back to my trunk." He said holding out the bag. "I'll need a change in uniform as well. I need you to obtain my robes, my tie, and my school bag from the Fourth Floor, and I need you to do it all before the Headmaster rescinds the lock-down.

"I will also need a pain killer potion, or something to numb the pain, as well as a burn salve and clean bandages. Before the lock-down is rescinded as well. You cannot be seen during any of this time." Harry said. "Can you do this for me?" The House-Elf nodded and quickly popped away.

Harry pulled the cowl off and tossed it into one of the sinks, turning it on full blast so that the water poured onto the cowl. Despite the illusion that Harry did not take damage that Dumbledore must have seen, the truth of the matter was far different.

Harry looked in the mirror, his green eyes absolutely bloodshot. Blood had spilled from both eyes and both nostrils from as much magic as he had been pumping through his body. He was so weak at the moment; he doubted he could even change a matchstick into a needle or vice versa.

Harry's uniform was perforated with small holes and gashes, ruining it. The Deathly Artifacts had made an illusion to make it seem like he wasn't taking damage, but debris had still been flying around the battlefield. He quickly stripped out of the top, seeing plenty of bruises and small cuts.

Nothing major thankfully.

The Elf popped away, bringing Harry his things before popping away. It came back with the medical things he needed.

Harry turned and tried to look at his back in the mirror, wincing at what he saw. From his impact with the rooftops, his back was one giant purple bruise. How he wished he could simply go to Madam Pomfrey to get checked out, but the School's Healer would undoubtedly ask many questions, and saying he fell down some stairs would not be sufficient to answer them.

He would also hate saying such a bold faced lie.

His ruined trousers came off next and Harry winced a little as he had to try and bend down to get them off. He wasn't going to look forward to the next few days, but he knew he had to. He had to act like nothing was wrong at all.

Harry started the water and began to wash up his face. He felt the wards around Hogwarts lower, telling him that Dumbledore had rescinded the lock-down. Standard procedure was for all students and staff to then head to the Great Hall.

Harry was on the clock then.

He downed the painkiller, letting it flow through his system. He then moved to a bench and placed his burnt leg on it. He winced at the sight of the second degree burns. It was no time to be squeamish either. He took the burn salve and rubbed it between both hands before applying a liberal coating of it to his leg. He relished in the pain, it told him that there wasn't nerve damage to be had.

He really wished he could go to Madam Pomfrey.

But the fact of the matter was he had to keep his anonymity. If he went to Pomfrey regarding his injuries, and even if he could get by with some half-baked flimsy excuse, she would likely tell Dumbledore in an attempt to keep such an event from happening again. And Dumbledore would put two and two together. The injury was too noticeable for the old man not to.

He wondered if he could hire one of the Goblins to look him over.

He took time wrapping the injury up, making sure the bandages were tight and firm. He shouldn't be walking on it, or running as he was soon to have to do, but it was necessary nonetheless. He quickly got dressed in the fresh clothes and dried his face with a supplied towel.

He grabbed the soaking wet Cowl, noting that it the water was running clear from it instead of bloodied. He quickly gave it a sharp snap, a wet sound filling the air. But the water snapped out of it and the thin fabric was once more bone dry, a very useful feature for the Cowl.

Harry slipped it around his neck once more, making sure it didn't show again. He grabbed his bag and began to run out the door.

He hit the Grand Staircase and quickly leapt over a railing, descending to the stairs and grabbing hold. He swung himself down and around, dropping another floor, careful not to land on his injured leg. He hurdled another railing and caught himself. He was on the Fourth floor with four to go.

He glanced over the railing and saw the students were on the Ground floor, heading for the Great Hall.

Harry sat on a rail and quickly descended, sliding down to the Third floor. He jumped to the moving staircase and raced down, leaping over the banister to land on the landing for the Second Floor. He dashed down the steps to get to the First Floor.

He flipped himself over the railing of the First Floor to hang and then drop to the Ground floor. He stood up and briskly walked after his classmates. He was sure he would be limping if it weren't for the haze his body was in thanks to the painkiller. Dust soon landed on his shoulder.

He quietly slipped into the Great Hall, just behind a group of Seventh Year Hufflepuffs that were speaking in low tones, trying to determine what had happened for the school to be placed into lock down.

Harry made his way to the Ravenclaw table. Sitting down in the back, as he was tempted to do, would draw attention to himself. Harry instead headed for the front to his usual spot. He took his seat and dug briefly in his bag for a book.

He bowed his head down, hoping to hide his bloodshot eyes as he began to read. But his mind was barely into the story, even as he read to make it look less suspicious. Instead, he was focusing around him on the murmurs and whispers.

Those that had been near windows spoke of what they had seen, some speculating on what had happened, and who the people were. The speculations ran the full gambit, from those hitting the nail on the head that Death himself had come to Hogwarts, to more grandiose ideas like Merlin himself coming. Some thought that Mephistopheles had been some product of alchemy, a sort of homunculus; others thought he was some sort of experiment of a dark design that they had yet to fully face.

The large doors to the Great Hall were sealed and locked before the Staff began to take a head count. Harry kept his eyes down as Flitwick passed by, he was certain the Dueling Master would see the bloodshot eyes that would be difficult to explain away. Hell, he was certain that any of the staff would notice them, not something that he really wanted to happen.

Dumbledore stepped in through a side entrance. His robes had been swapped out, his old sky blue robe being swapped out for a much more sedate grey set of robes. The sleeve on his left arm had been pinned up to where he had lost his arm. He moved to the podium amongst whispering comments.

McGonagall spoke with the other three Head of Houses a moment before she moved to the podium beside Dumbledore. "All the students are accounted for." She said in a low tone, but Harry was close enough that he was able to hear.

Dumbledore nodded and a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. "Excellent." He said before looking to the assembled students. "How many of you witnessed the battle that took place just outside these walls?" he decided to ask firstly.

Several students began to raise their hands, including Harry. Technically he had witnessed the battle, just as one of the fighters. Some of the upper year Ravenclaws looked surprised at his hand being raised.

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes panning over the assembled students, mentally counting just how many. He licked his lips lightly as he thought on what he was going to say next. "For those of you who do not know, though I doubt it will be many, just outside these walls, a battle was waged. The enemy was beaten by an unlikely ally using rather… dangerous magic."

A brave Gryffindor stood up. "Professor, who was it that helped?" she asked. It was a Seventh Year Prefect, Harry noted.

Dumbledore looked pensive for a moment. "Death." He finally said. "The embodiment of the end of all things, Death came to the school to combat this threat. I did not see his face, for it was shrouded in shadows, and I cannot say what his wand looked like, or even if he used one, for he never showed it.

"I, with the help of some of the staff, will be contacting each of your parents to let them all know that you are safe and this was a remote incident." Dumbledore said. "I will also be contacting the Aurors shortly, if you had seen the battle, I ask that you tell them every detail that you remember."

A Ravenclaw Fifth Year stood up as the Gryffindor sat down. "Professor, how is it that he escaped? With Hogwarts in lock-down, shouldn't he have still been within the boundaries of the wards? Shouldn't you have contacted the Aurors before lifting the lock-down so that they may catch this individual?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps I should have." He said politely, much to some whispering. "But Death had already escaped. A few of your classmates can tell you that he had a magical mount that was capable of bypassing the wards, much like a Phoenix can. Before I could even think to contact the Aurors, he was gone.

"Given my duties to tell your parents, with the help of the staff, the pending Auror investigation, and the fact Hogwarts will be playing host to a few guests for the next twenty four hours, I have decided to cancel the end of term exams." More whispering went around, filling the room with plenty of sound like a hive of angry bees.

The door to the right of Dumbledore swung open with a bit of a bang and Godric Gryffindor led the way in proudly, looking around at the castle he had helped renovate into a school. The murmurs in the Great Hall reached near deafening sounds as people began to point and whisper, seeing the two Founders.

It was especially poignant when Godric went to the Gryffindor table and began to greet the students and Salazar did not. He simply stood up by the Staff table, looking out over the students.

"Sal!" Godric said boisterously. "You must mingle with those belonging to your House." He said before sitting in one of the benches. "They have such fascinating stories to tell. The lake has a squid!"

Salazar shook his head at the glee of his fellow founder. In truth, he could not bear to look upon his House. The shame they brought upon themselves was unbearable. No longer could Slytherin truly be called the House of the Cunning and Ambitious. The blood purity nonsense was precisely that. Nonsense. What he had said at the time had been twisted beyond repair.

Yes, he was a pureblood. There was no doubt about that, and he was proud of that fact. He had, expressed concerns over taking in too many Mundane born witches and wizards at once. He didn't loathe them. Their time period had been dangerous for Witches and Wizards. His concerns were that if too many students wrote to their parents regarding Hogwarts, some prejudice fool would come with an army to siege the castle.

They had debated for years on the matter. A few of them got heated when the others wrote his concerns off a few times. His fears never came to pass during his time at Hogwarts, and instead the Prejudice came from within.

"I think I will check on Balthazar instead Godric. I do wonder how nearly a thousand years has benefited him." Salazar said before he began to walk away. He paused to make eye contact with Godric, an unspoken conversation going between them for a brief moment before Salazar continued on.

The chamber he had constructed awaited him, one he made to house a protector of Hogwarts.

Godric watched his friend leave before he rose to his feet. He knew who he needed to speak to was, but he made a show of looking around. "Is there a Potter here at Hogwarts?" he called out in a booming voice.

Harry jumped slightly. He had finally gotten engrossed in his book enough to blot everything out, that he had not expected Godric to speak up. Warily, Harry stood up from his spot. "I am a Potter." Harry said politely. "Harry Potter, sir."

Godric moved over towards Harry. "Young Master Potter, might I have a word in private? I have some news that is not meant for everyone's ears." He said before he turned to walk away.

Harry bit his tongue. He knew that Godric knew who he was as the Pale Rider. It was… disconcerting that he wished to speak with Harry. But he followed behind the massive warrior anyways. They stepped from the Great Hall and moved through various halls, climbing two staircases that Harry had no idea of.

Godric paused before a painting of a man standing victorious over an Egyptian Blackscale. Godric pressed his fist over his heart in way of salute. In return, the Portrait lowered the blade it held high and gave a salute with it before the portrait swung forward.

Godric stepped into the room beyond.

Harry hesitated a moment before stepping in after the Founder. Godric, even if he hadn't been an Undead, was unlikely to be leading him into a trap of some sort. But this was a part of the castle that he had no idea about.

Inside the room, Harry took a moment to marvel at it. It was clearly an office of some sort, with shelves of old scrolls and granite slabs carved with runes. A massive, waist high table dominated most of the room and Godric was on one side of it, looking down at the map upon the table. "My private office." Godric said, sounding more subdued. "Last I had been here; I had been coordinating the efforts and planning for a siege. Salazar had been… correct, as much as it pains me to say that."

Harry stepped closer. "What do you mean?" he asked in a curious tone.

Godric shook his head. "Sal and I had argued for years about those born to mundane families. He said eventually, the mundane would come and attack Hogwarts, and we had to be cautious about admitting so many of those born to mundane families. He was not prejudice against them, merely cautious of our non-magical brethren. His fears eventually came to pass, but he had not been there to see it. While we had turned the tide of battle in Hogwarts' favor, I had still been fatally struck on the field of battle."

Harry listened quietly. The truth of the matter was that while they were highly celebrated individuals, very little was known about the Founders, and to hear Godric speak was something… interesting. "Sir, why did you pull me away from the Great Hall?" Harry asked.

Godric sighed. "Salazar and I… we… have seen a problem inside of Hogwarts." Godric said, glancing up. "And you are the best one to tell of the matter. A noble young man that comes from good stock, your word will carry weight in the world. And, should your words in the Magical World fail, you can take it to the Non-Magical world where I hope they are listened to."

Godric shook his head and gave a rueful laugh. "This Undead thing does not suit me I'm afraid. At times, I feel as though I am lost in a strange word, others I feel as I have all the knowledge in the world at my fingertips just begging to be grasped."

"As an Undead, you know everything. Unfortunately no human, dead or alive, can understand everything. So you're capable of drawing up certain bits of information at a time. It's why you can speak in a language vastly different than your own. A thousand years has allowed quite a bit of time for English as you know it to change." Harry said, the words coming off of his lips easily. It was something he understood thanks to his lessons.

Godric nodded slowly. "Then let me say this plain for you Harry. We, Magical Britain, are dying. The previous three Generations have fought two wars regarding blood purity. They have purged much of the new blood from our people, through legislation or bloodshed. They coined a convenient term for when they killed someone of pure blood. The interbreeding in the past several generations has caused our people to be magically inferior."

Harry shifted slightly on his feet. He had his suspicions that that had been what happened, to have it put that way was disconcerting. "How bad is it?" Harry asked.

"There are a hundred and thirty students here at Hogwarts. My smallest year, for Gryffindor alone, had almost twice that many students." Godric explained. "And I had the smallest House at the time. Helga had over five hundred students that year Harry. The proof is in the students, we are dying!" Godric slammed his fist on the table, making it rattle and making Harry jump.

Godric shook his head and relaxed his fist. "I apologize about that." He said softly. "Headmaster Dumbledore has done an admirable job of championing the cause, but it is time for someone else to take up the torch and carry it forward. Only you have to carry it to the very end." Godric sighed softly and sat on a simple stool. "I am sorry to force such a heavy burden on you Harry."

Harry sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair. He had always thought his biggest problem would be finding the other Riders, and then to keep the creatures like Mephistopheles beyond the Veil of Death where they belonged.

Now… Now there was so much more.

In order to keep an apocalypse from happening, he had to survive to the end of the millennium, no easy feat considering his duty as Death. He doubted that Mephistopheles was going to be the only one that came after him. And now he found out that he had to champion a cause that had been fought tooth and nail, kicking and screaming since before the turn of the century.

To keep magical Britain from dying out.

And Godric was correct; Harry was the best option to do so. He could take the issue much further than Dumbledore could have. While the man was revered as a hero by many, he did not come from a Noble family like Harry, and the Dumbledore line would end with Aberforth and Albus.

It was a sobering thought.

Harry faced Godric and nodded softly. "I won't be able to do it alone. Change will have to occur on several fronts, both in the Government and in the School at the very least. I'm Salazar's Heir by Conquest, as I'm sure you know, but I will need the others if I want to change the school."

Godric nodded. "I offer you my office." He said waving his arm out to the room. "And everything in it. Two of the other Heirs are already here at the school, though I can't say who. I just know by the feel of the wards on the castle."

Harry nodded; the office would be an excellent meeting space for himself and the other three Heirs. He could speak with the Goblins to see if they might be able to help in the matter. Harry thought about a few of the changes that needed to be made in the school and he nodded softly.

He could do this, he just had to stay focused and not let it consume him. Dust cawed at his shoulder, lightly batting Harry's head with his wing.

Godric rose to his feet. "Our official story for this talk, Harry, is that I wished to tell you of Adrian, though I do not need to tell you of his bravery on the battlefield." Godric moved to a chest and lifted it up. "But with our actual talk over with, I thought I might give you something you might find interesting." The man said as he put the oaken chest on the table.

As Harry looked to the chest, he began to hear it. War drums beating at a steadily stronger tempo, the smell of ash and blood threatened to choke him, he could feel the heat of a blazing inferno. With a shaky hand, he opened the chest up, the rusty hinges creaking.

Inside, resting upon black silk were a pair of crimson gauntlets, edged with gold accents. The back of each hand held a vibrant yellow topaz that seemed to blaze within its faceted edges. The outside sides of the gauntlets had three small hooks that were bladed along the outside. They were meant for slicing flesh and tearing chunks away.

Harry surged his Deathly Aura up as he felt the compulsion on the Gauntlets. He slammed the chest shut, breathing heavily as he did so. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Those will have to be hidden until I find War." He said, breathing heavily.

The Gauntlets of Mars, they were War's gauntlets. They would increase her strength immensely, and allow her to absorb flames into the Topaz gems on the backs of the hands. Not only that, but they would absorb the blood of her enemies, healing her and fixing her armor in the process. They were believed to have other functions, but Dust was unsure what else they could do. The crow had little contact with War, and not every incarnation had the Gauntlets.

Though, Dust did have memories of seeing a War fist fighting a giant and winning.

Godric set the chest down and to the side once more. 'They will remain here until you have a better hiding spot." He said. His fingers trailed over the oaken lid of the chest for a moment. "I had put them on once myself, and felt such a bloodlust. Yet I could not bring myself to destroy them. I had thought to use them as a last resort if necessary." He said.

Harry nodded softly. "I understand. They are designed for one warrior though, and I am waiting for a while to find her."

Godric nodded and led Harry outside to the portrait once more. "I will let you change the password." He said.

Harry glanced up to the Portrait thinking of a password to use. He glanced to Godric, a warrior of inspiration waiting patiently. Finally, Harry focused on the Portrait. "In War, Victory." He said.

The warrior of the portrait saluted with his sword, showing that it would remember the password change.

"Come along," Godric said, starting to walk away. "It would be best if I got you back now."

-_Scene Break-_

"I say we burn these undead!" The grating voice of Delores Umbridge caused Dumbledore to pinch the bridge of his nose underneath his half-moon spectacles. Now that the physical battle had ended, he now needed to deal with the political. "And then arrest the monster that raised them, a life-time sentence in Azkaban will show it its errors."

"Quite right." Cornelius Fudge said, though he looked a little pale. "The best known method of dealing with Inferi is to burn them, you know this Albus." He said, not in the slightest helping with the building headache that Dumbledore had growing.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but she may be right Albus." Amelia Bones' voice was like an unbendable wall of steel, and actually quite comforting, even if the words were not right. "This is a very serious crime, Death Magic on this scale? We need to prepare for the worst, we could nip this in the bud if we did it smart."

That was what Dumbledore liked about Amelia. She was smart enough to know that this could be worse. Dumbledore popped a lemon drop in his mouth and sucked on the sour candy a moment as he sat a little higher in his seat. "What you decide, Minister and Madam Bones, I will support the decision entirely. However, I am merely trying to point out the cons of such a scenario."

If they could arrest an entity calling himself Death, then all the more power to them.

"By burning these… Undead, we run the risk of angering their summoner. We do not have the full scope of his abilities. I would gladly offer what input I have on the matter of his abilities and the abilities of most Necromancers based upon my time against Grindelwald's forces." Dumbledore said after a moment, letting it sink in.

"But you said so yourself, he was weak at the end of the battle." Amelia pointed out. "Twenty-four hours does not give enough time to rest and heal from such a battle." She had a point.

"If such a battle even existed in the first place." Umbridge said. "I find it quite suspicious that it occurred, yet Dumbledore is the only one standing before us at the moment."

Dumbledore stared quite coldly at her, the implications actually angering him. "I am certain there are several dozen students willing to testify the battle from the windows of the classes that faced that direction. Or are you trying to suggest I cut my own arm off Delores?" he asked, his tone quite hot with anger.

"What would you suggest then Albus?" Amelia asked quickly to try and lead the conversation back to the topic at hand. With Umbridge and Fudge in the room, she did not want this to descend into some political pissing contest, especially with slime like Lucius Malfoy in the room, even if he was being quiet.

"Arrest the man if you wish to try." Dumbledore said simply. "However, after he has allowed the dead to slumber once more. These are no mere Inferi; they hold the personalities they had while they lived. But know this; I will not participate in trying to subjugate him. My first priority must be the protection of the students, so if he becomes violent and resists arrest, I will be keeping the school safe and will not be assisting either party."

"No one expects you to do any more Albus." Amelia said, cutting off any comment from Fudge or Umbridge, staring at them out of the corner of her eye.

"Of course, of course." Fudge said, rotating his bowler hat some more. "You have to keep the students safe, they're our future." He said, trying to be pleasant. "Amelia, I want as many Aurors as can be spared. Perhaps a show of force will help convince this individual not to resist. Maybe contact Alastor Moody as well, a veteran such as he would be able to help, I think."

Amelia clearly did not like the plan but nodded anyways. "I'll manage to get them here, likely under the pretense of asking the students questions regarding the incident. That'll be a nightmare in and of itself."

Fudge was about to say something when the door opened. All eyes moved over to the form of Salazar Slytherin as he entered, stepping through the doorway quite calmly. Out of instinct, Amelia's wand was in her hand and raised, aimed at Salazar.

Salazar paused mid-step and raised both hands. "I am merely here to check what my old office was turned into." He said simply, keeping his gaze upon the wand. "Also, to collect a few things that I kept safe inside here."

"Could you perhaps come back later?" Dumbledore asked politely, trying to keep the situation calm. "I would be more than pleased to show you around properly."

Salazar seemed to debate on this for a time before nodding. "Very well, allow me to collect Amadeus and then I will be on my way." He moved over to the bookshelf where Dumbledore kept the Sorting Hat and plucked it from the top shelf. Placing the patchwork hat upon his head, he began to walk away.

Amelia sighed softly and tucked her wand away. "I see what you mean about not being Inferi Albus." Slytherin had been capable of moving with long, quick strides. It stood to reason that the Undead, and not just Salazar Slytherin, would be capable of dodging and fighting back at a faster rate than a slow shamble.

Lucius stood up from his seat. "Minister, I will ensure that the Board of Governors will stand behind your decision. Burn them if you wish as well." He gathered his things. "Bones, Dumbledore." He said in parting before using the Floo to leave.

Amelia said nothing but stood up. "I need to get Aurors here to gather statements from the students that volunteer the information." She said before leaving out of the Floo as well.

"Tricky business this." Fudge said, standing up. "Come along Delores, we've been gone from the Ministry long enough. Albus, I'll be here tomorrow to oversee this arrest. Hopefully we can have all of this sticky business put behind us." Fudge and Umbridge then left, leaving Dumbledore alone with his thoughts for a time.

He sent a Patronus off to Flitwick. He wished to have a serious conversation with the Charms Professor.

It was not long until Flitwick arrived to the office and took the seat that Dumbledore conjured. "This has been an interesting year Fillius." Dumbledore said softly.

Flitwick watched Dumbledore for a moment, clearly thinking about the events of the year. To anyone, it would seem like a nightmare waiting to happen. "That it has Albus." Flitwick said after a time.

Dumbledore removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes a bit with his good hand. "Can I confide in you Fillius? I have this gut feeling that I need to tell someone I can trust, but I am afraid it will not be a pleasant thing to say." He said.

"Speak your mind Albus, you've always been good at doing that, whether someone wanted to hear it or not."

Dumbledore gave a rueful laugh. "Ah yes, yes I have." He said softly. He set his spectacles on the table and used his wand to clean them, even if they were spotless. He then put them on once more. "I will have to get used to having only one hand, already it is… concerning how much I used my left hand for." He said shaking his head.

Dumbledore looked to Flitwick's eyes. This was a man that Dumbledore respected because Flitwick was the type of man that did things his way, after having all the available facts he could gather. "I believe that Death, the entity that defeated that monster on the castle grounds, is Harry Potter." Dumbledore said, deciding to just drop the full news on Flitwick.

Flitwick's eyes narrowed, and there was a tensing to his shoulders and body that said he was about to fight. "And what sort of proof do you have to your claims Albus?" Flitwick asked.

Dumbledore shook his head, ruefully laughing once more. "I have none." He said. "Nothing but my own observations which are hardly enough. I have no plans to try and gather information on it either, I have no intentions of confronting Mr. Potter regarding it." Dumbledore sighed then.

Flitwick's posture relaxed only slightly. "Then why tell me? Do you expect me to spy on him?" he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I expect nothing from telling you my suspicions. Yet I know Mr. Potter has some training in using Elemental spells, specifically ice. Death used such things, little things on a whim, platforms and swords and the like. Secondly, Mr. Potter's magical aura usually so much like a bright torch among the candles that the other students usually are, was much more subdued, like he was exhausted."

"It sounds like you're projecting Albus." Flitwick said, leaning back in the chair slightly.

"Perhaps I am, but I only have gut feelings and observations at this point." Dumbledore said, leaning back into his chair. "Making any sort of accusation at this point would be pointless. No one would believe me, and even if it were true, I would be condemning a child, a child that could be saved from such a dark path."

Flitwick watched Dumbledore for a while. "I cannot help in this endeavor Albus. You are going to be alone with your thoughts and suspicions. Mr. Potter has been an outstanding student all across the board. For the most part, he doesn't even step a toe out of line. He is withdrawn, I will be the first to admit that, but he has been busy. Anyone with eyes can see what he's working on Albus. He's going through his family's finances. I also have it on good authority that he's doing his godfather's finances as well. This takes a great deal of time.

"What was seen happening would take a great deal of power and knowledge in Death Magic Albus, knowledge that Mr. Potter hasn't had the time to obtain. Whoever this Death is, he's no First Year, no matter how gifted that First Year may be." Flitwick said.

Dumbledore nodded and sighed softly. "I do hope you are correct Fillius, I do." He said and slumped in his chair.

He did not want Harry walking a dark path.

-End Chapter-

A/N: This chapter seemed impossible for a while, but I managed it. The next chapter, I promise, is the very last chapter of this story. I know I've been mentioning the end for a while, but the next chapter is it, I promise!

HBW, out.


	27. Book 1: Chapter 27

_Last Time: Harry patched himself up in the Room of Requirements, and Dumbledore announces what happened to the students and staff of Hogwarts. Godric Gryffindor encumbers Harry with the task of dragging Magical Britain out of the slow path they are on to extinction and gives Harry his personal office. Harry is also gifted with the Gauntlets of Mars, the gauntlets that are to be worn by War. Dumbledore has met with the Minister of Magic and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Though Dumbledore will stay out of it, they plan to arrest Death after he lays the Undead to rest. Dumbledore shares his theory on the identity of Death with Flitwick, though he only has theories at the moment._

Book One: Death

Chapter 27

Flitwick watched his charges as they shuffled into the Ravenclaw Common Room. After all the excitement of the day, they were all ready for sleep. Given his protectiveness for his Ravens, he counted each and every one of them as they entered the Common Room, ensuring that he had the complete amount.

His eyes followed the form of Harry Potter for a moment.

Flitwick momentarily cursed Dumbledore mentally. Whether the man intended it or not, he got Flitwick thinking. He planted the seeds inside Flitwick's mind, something that was never good, especially given his intelligence. He could make leaps of logic like few others with the shrewdness of a Goblin.

Almost at once, Flitwick realized Dumbledore was most likely right in regards to Harry Potter. There was a tiredness and fatigue to him that did not come after a particularly exciting day. It did not come from the stress of exams either.

It came from a pitched battle.

Harry hid it well, but Flitwick was no stranger to the signs and symptoms. There was a tenseness in Harry's shoulders, a stiffness in his walk. Not only that, but Harry kept his head down as much as possible. Flitwick was willing to bet his entire Gringotts vault that Harry's eyes were bloodshot.

He watched as Harry sat in one of the plush, comfortable chairs of the common room. Flitwick continued to watch the young man, thinking on what he should do. If he confronted Harry about it, then Harry would undoubtedly get defensive regarding it. The work they had done that year in opening up the Fortress around Harry's heart would be undone. The proverbial gates would seal shut and new walls would be built. And they wouldn't come back down.

But if he left it alone, then he was worried that one of his favorite Ravens would be led astray by the Dark Arts. He was… hesitant to allow Harry to practice questionable arts, such as Necromancy. Yet Harry had clearly done what he had to, without hesitation. Whether it was to save his own skin, a possibility if what Dumbledore said was correct about Harry being some sort of catalyst to an Armageddon scenario, or if it had to do with saving the students of Hogwarts, Flitwick would likely never know.

It was also a simple matter to deduce why Harry hid his identity. People would try to take him, and despite his impressive abilities, Harry was still young. He had gotten lucky in his battle outside of Hogwarts, they all did.

"Mr. Potter, come into my quarters for a moment, there is something I need to discuss with you." He said before he made his way towards his quarters making short work of unlocking the door and heading inside.

Flitwick started to brew a pot of tea, making it strong. He briefly thought about slipping a bit of a pain reliever into Harry's cup. But if Harry suddenly felt less pain than he did, then he would likely get suspicious. Flitwick was carefully thinking how he wanted to approach the situation. He didn't wish to lose the comradery that they had.

When the door was shut, he passed along the cup of tea and sat down at the desk. His quarters, much like the quarters of most of the rest of the staff, were a three room area. There was a sort of meeting area, with a desk and chairs as well as a few other things like cupboards for various personal effects that didn't belong in his office. Next was his bedroom, which was behind a closed door, and the other door led to a personal bathroom. It was sufficient for a Professor to live in for quite some time.

Flitwick watched as Harry sat down and drank his tea. He poured himself a small bit of Fire Whiskey into his own, nothing much. "Harry, look at me, please." Flitwick said as he took a drink of his, letting the mix burn its way down his throat and settle in his stomach.

Harry slowly looked up and Flitwick confirmed his theories. Harry's eyes were bloodshot and there was a tenseness to his face that told Flitwick that whatever Harry used to numb the pain for most of the day was wearing off. And, unless Flitwick missed his mark, Harry looked a little older, like there was just a little more definition to his cheeks and jaw that what had been there that morning.

Perhaps a side effect of his powers as Death? It was like the difference between seeing a leaving First year, and an arriving Second year all in the span of a few hours. It was nothing major, but it could be quite concerning if it kept occurring.

He looked into his young charge's face, still trying to figure out how to convey his feelings on the matter without causing Harry to lock up his walls once more. There was a time and place for blunt honesty, and this was not it.

A goblin saying came to mind, and Flitwick took a drink of his tea. He decided that it would work. It would be vague enough for Harry to understand his meaning. "All Goblins are told something when they are training at a young age to do battle, and I wish to share this wisdom with you Harry. Reach down into your heart and you'll find many reasons to fight: survival, honor, glory. But what of those that feel it is their duty to protect the innocent? It is there that we find warriors savage enough to match any dragon. In the end, they will retain something the others won't, something the others can't: their Humanity."

Flitwick watched the gears working in Harry's mind. He knew the young man would figure out that Flitwick suspected him of being Death, but it was vague enough to be taken in a different meaning. "This year has been quite tumultuous for you Harry, and I want you to know that from what I have seen, I believe this bit of wisdom applies quite aptly to you."

Harry quietly drank his tea, and Flitwick was worried he might have done what he feared. However, the Potter heir placed the cup down on the table. "I will think upon your words Professor. Thank you for the tea."

Flitwick watched as Harry left his office, breathing softly. He really didn't want to have driven a wedge between him and the raven haired young man.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry awoke the next day, later than he usually did and gave a soft grunt as he moved himself out of the bed. He was so stiff and sore, it was not a pleasant experience. And with his injured ankle, every step felt like a white hot knife was being plunged into him.

Still, he showered and dressed as quickly as he could manage and left the Dorms. With classes over because finals were cancelled, there was going to be about two days before students were sent home. His fellow Ravenclaws were unlikely to be getting up early. While Harry personally didn't see the point in cancelling the Final Exams, he was nonetheless grateful for it.

Even after about eighteen hours and two meals, he was still only at about five percent of his maximum magical capacity, if that even. It would take at least a week or two to get back to full, and in that time Harry couldn't really be casting much magic.

His Deathly Artifacts were in his expanded bag. Death would be making an appearance, regardless of Harry's health. He could send the dead back to their eternal rest from anywhere in the castle, but he needed to be there, he needed to lay them to rest personally.

Harry quietly slipped inside the Room of Requirements as soon as he managed to make a room. "Millie," he called softly. He had summoned his Elf the day before to take care of Despair at the Shrieking Shack as well as get a stock pile of pain numbing potions, burn salves, and fresh bandages. When he heard the telltale pop of her appearance, he turned to her. "I need you to bring me one of each of the items I asked you to get me Millie." He said softly.

It was another two quick pops, about three minutes between each other before he had the fresh bandages and the two mixtures. "Thank you Millie." He said softly as he sat down to work on his leg and change the bandages.

"Yous takes care Master Harry." Millie said, clearly worried about him before she popped away.

Harry drank the pain numbing potion and bent down, starting to undo the bandages he had placed on his leg the day before. They were, thankfully, water resistant so he didn't have to take them off in the shower.

Carefully, he used his knife to lightly scrape away some of the old salve. He didn't need to get it all, just as long as he didn't cut himself in the process. He then took his time in working the fresh salve in, the cool ointment feeling like a relief to his hot skin.

Harry then made sure to wrap his leg up with fresh bandages. While he would never claim to know the best way to treat a burn, he had done a little bit of research to it over the past year. If he had been practicing fire spells, then he wanted to be able to treat himself when he needed to.

Plus with him eventually getting War who was fire in nature…

Harry stood up and removed his robes and the more identifiable portions of his school uniform. When he was just in a pair of black slacks and a black long sleeved dress shirt, he found it more acceptable. He drew the cloak out and threw it over his form, letting it settle before he brought the cowl up over his face.

The Resurrection Stone was swapped out in place of his Potter Heir Ring. The Dominion Gauntlet and the Harvester both went on his left hand. Once more the visage of Death, Harry rolled his shoulders and stepped outside of the Room of Requirements, letting Dust take off.

"Despair." Harry whispered. In a roar of acidic green flames, his mount arrived and trotted over to him. Despair bowed down slightly, lowering the front of its body so that he had an easier time getting up. Even still, he gave a soft grunt as he had to jump just a little bit.

When Despair straightened back up and began to walk forward, the green flames engulfed the pair once more. They reappeared outside of Hogwarts, slowly making their way up along the edge of the Black Lake. It was time to put the Dead back.

"Madam Bones!" Amelia heard the call of John Dawlish and took a look to where he was pointing. And what she saw frightened her. Slow and confident as he pleased, the figure that Dumbledore had described as Death was riding up at a slow pace.

If even a fraction of what Dumbledore had said were true regarding his abilities, Amelia knew that her people were going to have a fight on their hands if this individual chose to resist arrest. She wanted nothing more than to let the person go so that they didn't lose any good men to a pitched battle.

A dozen of her Aurors were there, along with Mad-Eye and herself making their number fourteen. In theory it was a matter of numbers. But this individual was still an unknown. His abilities were unknown. While she would like to believe he was still weak from the battle Dumbledore described from the day before, the truth of the matter was she had no guarantees.

The undead were escorted out by Dumbledore at that point, it was another point of worry in her mind. If some jumpy Auror sent spell fire in the way of Death, what was to stop him from overwhelming them with his remaining Undead?

Amelia turned to her colleagues. "Do not fire until ordered." She said firmly. She didn't like the situation. There were far too many variable for things to go wrong, for people to get killed. And she would do her damned hardest to make sure everyone there went home at the end of their shift.

If it was up to her, she would be letting Death go. He saved her niece, he earned a freebie. But British Law was clear on the use of Death Magic. With the likes of Grindelwald and Voldemort, the branch of magic was entire too dangerous. And it was her duty to uphold the law.

Again, Amelia found herself desperately wishing the individual wasn't going to resist arrest. "Alastor, with me." Amelia said as she started to walked towards the individual, She heard the subtle sound of Mad-Eye's leg thumping against the ground as he followed.

She picked Mad-Eye for two reasons. First, Moody was a fast spell caster and wouldn't hesitate to bring this individual down should he start to resist arrest. She needed that sort of experience at her back at the moment. Second, was she was hoping he would be able to see underneath the cowl for them to put an image into the newspaper on the off chance he escaped.

Harry noticed the approaching duo and rolled his shoulders slightly. It had not been wholly unexpected that the Aurors would be there, especially after Dumbledore announced that he would be contacting them. But Harry also noticed the determined way that Amelia and Moody were striding up to him, they meant to arrest him.

Still, Harry carefully slid himself from Despair. He was careful not to land on his injured ankle in the slightest. All of his weight came down on one ankle, and he gave a slight grunt of displeasure. He stepped towards the front of Despair, watching the Undead coming out with Dumbledore.

Harry carefully counted each and every one of them. He wanted to make sure that they would all be laid to rest properly. "Excellent." Harry said as he counted the last of them. "I thank you for playing host for them for twenty-four hours Wulfric." He told Dumbledore.

Harry began to walk among the Undead then, letting his magic flow around them and their magic flow around him. It felt glorious really. He noted that he was about a dozen feet from Despair and Amelia and Moody were about twenty feet from the rest of the Aurors. It was optimal firing distance for the Aurors really.

Harry summoned the Harvester to his left hand, noting the way the Aurors stiffened and more than a few wands were raised towards him. Instead, Harry raised it up over his head, the now obsidian colored scythe gleaming in the sun.

"Hear me!" he yelled out, making sure all the Undead could hear him. "You have all done me a great service! Rest now mighty warriors! Return to your eternal slumber, and rise forever no more!" He swung the scythe down into the ground, making the blade dig deeply into the soil still wet from the rain yesterday.

He saw a few Aurors jump a bit as the markings appeared on the ground. They were the same markings that had appeared in the clouds the day before when Harry summoned the undead.

A few of them murmured thanks before they began to slouch their way forward, heading back to where they had dug their way out of the ground in slow lumbering movements. They looked more like Inferi rather than the Undead Harry had raised. Soon however, they began to dig their way down, the earth parting for them quite easily.

It left Harry all by himself. The glowing circle vanished once the last of the undead, a troll, had managed to pull its body under the dirt. They were swallowed up, and Harry knew they were rapidly decaying down to dust once more.

Harry returned the Harvester to the Dominion Gauntlet. He rolled his shoulders slightly. He had expected that to take more out of him, but in truth it hadn't taken much. Necromancy was an interesting art.

Amelia stepped forward slowly and Harry's eyes panned over towards her. She was closer to Despair than he was, and Despair was his only chance to get out of there. He wasn't climbing Hogwarts on an injured ankle.

"You are the individual that calls yourself Death?" Amelia asked, her hand gripping her wand.

"I am he." Harry said, turning to face her fully. Mentally, he pleaded for Amelia not to try. He didn't want any of the Aurors to get hurt, less so because of his actions.

"I would like to thank you." Amelia said. "For saving Hogwarts, a few of the others would as well. We have family here."

Harry inclined his head towards her. "I did not do it for the thanks, I did it because it was necessary. I am sorry that they were in any danger in the first place."

Amelia nodded slowly and took out her monocle for a moment, rubbing it against her shirt slightly before putting it back in. "For the use of Death Magic, I am going to have to arrest you. Will you come peacefully?" she asked.

Harry shook his head slowly, noting as she and Moody began to tense, preparing for a fight. "I will not." He said simply.

Moody's wand was up and aimed at Harry, both eyes focused on him. "Think this over." Moody said. "You're in no shape to be fighting. Your ankle's injured, and your magical core has to be stressed from your battle yesterday. Come peacefully."

Once more, Harry shook his head, but he made no aggressive movements. "I cannot. My enemies will find me, and they will kill me if I come with you. And then the world itself is doomed. But I have no intention of fighting you either. Despair!" he barked out.

Harry was weak, there was no denying that. Had he been at full, he might have been able to fight his way out. But he was weak and injured. But Despair was not. Despair was healthy and powerful still. The Thestral's wings flared out wide, and as the aspect of Wind, a small localized tornado built around it, powerful winds whipping around.

Harry's scythe came out and turned into a spear to be dug into the ground as he hunkered down. Spell fire came his way but was whipped away by the powerful winds. His cloak whipped around him. He looked around, even though it was difficult. He could see both Moody and Amelia on the ground, trying to keep the winds from yanking them up.

Despair trotted over moving the general force of the tornado to Harry. He reached up to hold the cowl down, just to be on the safe side. He reached out to brush his fingers along Despair, and the wind no longer touched him. The Harvester wrapped up in the Dominion Gauntlet, and Harry kept a hand on Despair while his steed lowered itself to the ground.

Harry mounted Despair, looking out over the many Aurors struggling to keep their footing. Fudge and his assistant seemed to be having difficulty as well, Fudge's hat whipped away. Harry pressed his heels into Despair and pale green fire erupted around them, whisking them away.

Without Despair to fuel the magic of the tornado there, it quickly died away, a few stray gusts of wind remaining before they too died off. Amelia slowly got back to her feet and swore under her breath slightly at the loss of the individual. While none of the Aurors were injured, she just knew that Fudge was going to make it sound like she was incompetent.

"Moody, did you see anything under that cowl? Anything that could help us identify him?"

Moody shook his head. "Sorry lass, it was like looking into an infinite black abyss. There was nothing but shadows and those emerald green flames."

Amelia swore again before she put her wand away. "It can't be helped then. He got away this time, but we'll keep searching for him." She said.

"Aye, I'll go tell the boys." Moody said before hobbling away and leaving Amelia to her thoughts.

Amelia sighed softly, turning to go face the more difficult problem of dealing with Fudge with Umbridge at his side.

-_Scene Break-_

Over the next few days, it was all anyone could talk about. The escape of Death from a contingent of Aurors. Of course, with each telling and retelling, it got to be even more exaggerated that it was honestly causing Harry a headache. He couldn't understand the need to gossip like witches and wizards were so fond of doing.

By the time of the leaving feast, he was credited with having stared defiantly down a hundred Aurors, summoning the tornado himself with a flick of his wrist, and riding away upon a white dragon breathing green fire.

It was maddening really.

Of course, it had the additional bonus effect of keeping him completely away from the topic at hand. His absence while it had been going down was credited to him being in his usual study room. When asked why, he had stated that he had no interest in what would happen.

He had experienced it, why would he like to watch it? Of course, he didn't really dare tell anyone that.

Harry finished packing his trunk, ensuring that everything was neatly folded and tucked away. He saw a few of his dorm mates had just chucked everything into their trunks in a fashion that would still let them close it. It just made him shake his head and chuckle.

He stood up and allowed himself to stretch out a little bit. He descended from the First Year Boys Dorm, dragging his trunk behind him quietly. He was the last one to go down because he much preferred to have everything neatly packed away.

He had spent good money on a multi-compartmental trunk, he may as well use it the way it was intended to be used. Flitwick was saying his goodbyes to his Seventh Year students with a drink in his quarters, the rest of them were heading down to the Thestrals to take them to the station.

Harry shook his head, chuckling softly as he headed down. Thankfully, his body was no longer wracked with pain, so it made it easier for him to walk and move without drawing suspicion to himself. Still, his ankle was injured and he knew he had to keep taking care of that.

"Hello ladies." Harry said as he quickened his pace in the courtyard to catch up to Susan and Hannah. "Good year?" he asked. He had definitely talked to them quite often, but it still never hurt to ask if they had a good year.

Both nodded and Hannah beamed at him. "Thank you for those medical books, they've been quite the interesting read." She said somewhat excitedly, her blonde pigtails bouncing a bit.

Harry waved the thanks off. "It was nothing Hannah, I'm just glad you liked them." He said honestly.

Susan smiled. "So, you'll write over the summer right?" she asked, noticing Ashes perched upon Harry's shoulder, notably looking anywhere but at Dust who was doing the same thing on the opposite shoulder.

Harry snorted. "I'll come visit instead." He said simply. "I still know your Floo address, but I will write beforehand so you and your aunt know that I'm coming."

"What about me?" Hannah asked.

Harry held out a book as he walked, holding it out to the blonde. "Pen in your name and Floo address, I'll come visit you as well, so long as your mother isn't there." He shuddered softly.

"Prat." Hannah said playfully, even as she took the mundane pen and wrote the information into the mostly empty journal. Susan's name and Floo address was written in a crisp masculine manuscript belonging to Harry.

Susan grinned. "Hannah might be over at my house most the summer though, she usually is."

Harry shrugged his shoulders. It didn't bother him any which way that it was going to happen. He was going to visit his friends over the course of the summer. "Excuse me, I have more names and addresses to fetch." He said as he took the book and pen back and drifted away from the two Hufflepuff girls.

He quickly found Hermione and Millicent, walking beside one another and talking to each other. It was an unusual friendship with the two, one that most of Gryffindor and Slytherin frowned upon, but it still worked given the two's love for books.

"Ladies." He greeted as he stepped beside Millicent. "How did you guys enjoy the year?" he asked.

"It was interesting, a little too exciting at times." Hermione said with a shiver, clearly remembering the troll.

"I hear that." Millicent said softly. "Especially the past few days with all the Aurors asking questions? I'm just glad I was down in the Dungeons taking my Potion's finals when that battle went down."

Harry said nothing on the matter. Hogwarts would have her scars from that battle for quite some time to come. "Here," he said changing the subject quickly enough. "I plan to visit everyone over the Summer Holidays, or at least those I count as my friends. Write your name and your Floo address in, Hermione just write your address in. I'll have to figure out something else."

His thoughts drifted to Despair, his steed would certainly be able to get him to Hermione's house, but that might be a little dangerous.

Millicent took the book and wrote the information in. "What about your Godfather, aren't you going to be staying with him?" she asked politely as she passed the book and pen off to Hermione.

Harry shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Maybe… I don't know." He said. That was the honest answer really. He had been mostly independent for a while, and he wasn't sure how Sirius was going to be. Was he going to try and coddle Harry?

The two had corresponded back and forth a few times over the years, but there was so little that could be said in a letter. All Harry really knew was that Sirius was tracking down an old school friend of his that he hoped Harry would meet.

Harry liked being able to come and go as he pleased. He was certain that he would visit and stay with Sirius at least for a time, but he wasn't sure that it would be an indefinite type of thing. Harry certainly didn't plan to stay with the man if he wanted a full accounting of Harry's whereabouts at all times.

Hermione passed the book back to Harry. "Why don't you do all this on the train?" she asked as she tried to load her trunk into the carriage that was going to take them down to the station before Harry lifted the trunk up to put it away. "I mean you'll have plenty of time."

Harry snorted as he put Millicent's away next to Hermione's. "Why would I take the train?" he asked before he slotted his trunk away. "I purchased the Shrieking Shack and had it renovated. It's connected to the Floo network. It's a twenty minute walk from the station, if that. I'll be home before you guys leave Scotland."

Millicent frowned slightly as she got into the carriage. "Is that even allowed?" she asked as she leaned into the seat.

Harry mounted the Thestral instead. "The rules state we can't use any place of Business' Floo. The Shrieking Shack is a home now, which I plan to rename once I thought of something good enough. Maybe Potter Cottage…" he said thoughtfully. "And it's mine, so I could technically stay there all summer. No point in riding the train to London just to Floo to a few miles away from Hogwarts. Not like Seamus."

Hermione got into the carriage and Harry pressed his heels into the Thestral getting it moving. They could seat four, but Harry wasn't going to wait for a straggler. At the train station, Harry helped both girls get their luggage onto the train before he got back off the train.

He saw a splash of red and moved over to the Weasley twins who were talking animatedly. "Fred, George." He said, making sure that he addressed each one properly.

"He's not George." Fred said.

"And I'm Fred." George said.

Harry shook his head. "Try it with someone else guys, it doesn't work on me." As Death, he could tell which one was which. There were subtle differences to their souls that Dust could see. He passed over his book. "I need your Floo address. I plan to come visit you guys and Ron."

"Sure thing Harrykins, if you tell us how it is you can tell us apart." George said, taking the book. "Miss Bones' address seems to be written in your handwriting Harrykins, anything you want to say?" George asked suggestively, trying to fluster Harry.

Harry wouldn't have any of it. "I already had her Floo address, I figured I'd have an address book of sorts. As for telling you apart, it's magic." He said

"That's a cop out statement." Fred said as George filled in the information.

Harry said nothing as he took the book. "Maybe, but I'll see you guys soon." He said as he lifted his trunk up and began to walk away, heading into Hogsmeade proper.

His summer was going to undoubtedly be busy.

-_Fin-_

A/N: That's it! Book One: Death is complete! It took me a handful of days over five months to finish this story, I'm going to take a break from writing for a bit, and play some Kingdom Hearts 1.5 HD

Keep an eye out for when I start back up and go right into Book Two: Pestilence.

HBW


	28. Book 2: Chapter 1

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter One

It had been five days since the battle at Hogwarts where Harry Potter, as Death, Rider of the Pale Horse, donned his regalia and met with a creature beyond the Veil of Death that had consumed its way from the Mirror of Erised through the traps meant to guard the Philosopher's Stone. Four days since he had escaped the Aurors that had come to capture him and lay to rest the greatest army of undead the world had ever seen up to that point.

Five days, and Harry Potter was still in the Shrieking Shack utterly exhausted from the sheer amount of magic he had thrown around to try and defeat Mephistopheles. The creature had refused to go down until Harry had used strange and unknown Soul Magic to kill it, the first Pale Rider in their long, long history to do so.

He stood in the shower stall, resting his body under the hot water as it beat down upon his pale skin, making it slowly turn red from the heat. Finally, the raven haired boy reached up and turned the water off, resting his head against the tiles still.

The slow drip of the water was relaxing to him. With no one around, and no one keyed into the wards around the Shrieking Shack, Harry was able to let his guard down, just slightly. His body showed the fatigue he felt, his shoulders were slumped and his movements sluggish and lethargic.

His feet barely lifted up as he stepped out of the stall and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before he moved in front of the mirror. He reached out and touched the rune stone under the mirror and dragged upwards, turning the lights on.

The Goblins of Gringotts had done an excellent job in producing modern luxuries for Harry, including a form of electricity. Though, the lights weren't actually glass with wire, but instead a very brittle stone, enchanted to glow.

Harry slowly put his glasses on and pushed his hair back as he stared at himself in the mirror. His skin was paler than normal, and his usually emerald green eyes were a dull color. His face was slightly gaunt, and his eyes had dark bags under them from the lack of sleep he had been getting. He kept seeing Adrian dying, he kept remembering the sacrifice he had been willing to make.

It caused him to bolt upright many nights.

His trademark lightning bolt scar was an angry red, like it had been freshly cut. The significance of such a thing was lost on him, but he vowed that he would figure it out when he had more time. His gaze moved lower to his bare chest, looking to his left side.

The harsh scar from the self-surgery stuck out rather viciously. While it had been done with a surgical blade, it had been in an amateur's hand. Harry sighed as he reached down and touched it softly. He figured out his plans for the day.

He took a moment to dry off before he stepped into the master bedroom. He touched the Rune stones by the door, turning the lights on. While his room was furnished with nice, hand crafted wood furniture; it was still rather Spartan in appearance. It wasn't full of personalized items with the sole exceptions being his school trunk and his two wrist holsters at his bedside table.

He took a moment to open his wardrobe and from it he pulled out a black collared shirt and a pair of plain, khaki trousers. He laid both on the bed before drying himself off better.

When he was dry, he got dressed properly and strapped both wrist holsters to his arms. His right arm had his wand whereas his left arm had his thin knife.

Harry regarded his wand for a moment. He wondered with the reunification of Despair, his trusty steed, would he need to go have his wand tuned once more. Already it was so much more than the Yew with Nightmare and Thestral hair intertwined. It had crystalized tears of the Valkyrie at the base in a vibrant sapphire gem, Thestral and Valkyrie hair wound up along the wood towards the tip, with a mix of blood from a vampire over a thousand years old, his own blood, and blood from Dust, the crow familiar of Death, to make a varnish for his wand.

To a normal wizard, this sort of wand would be incredibly powerful and dangerous. But to Harry who usually had a lot of magical power flowing through him, it was a perfect fit, like a glove tailored perfectly for his hand.

Harry shook his head for a moment as he put on a pair of nice boots that would be comfortable to stand in for long periods of times. He didn't use the boots he wore to the Ministry Ball, choosing instead to go with something that wouldn't stand out as much.

He grabbed one last thing from his room. The Shadow Cowl, Death's cowl. It gave Harry many benefits such as the ability to speak and understand many languages as though they were his natural tongue. When up, the cowl would shroud his features in shadows completely hiding him. And, it would protect him from Soul Tearing magic, like the Killing Curse or the gaze of a Basilisk.

He headed outside of the Shrieking Shack, locking the door behind him which kept the wards up. He circled around to the make shift stable that had been built for Despair, and he looked over his steed. Despair looked much like a Thestral, only quite a bit bigger than the usual skeletal steeds that pulled Hogwarts' carriages. At the moment, it looked just like any other Thestral. Grey skin pulled over a skeletal frame, a single crimson eye watching its rider as Harry approached.

Slowly, Harry stroked its neck softly. "You ready to go for a ride?" he asked. Mentally, he called for Dust to come back from his flight.

Despair gave a shrill sound and stamped the ground a moment before lowering to let Harry up. Slowly, cautious of his injured ankle, Harry mounted the steed. He felt the twinge of pain and glanced down to his left ankle. The burns still hurt, and likely would for some time yet.

His mind went back to the fight. He could still feel the whipping winds of the abyss sucking at him while he clung to the Harvester, his scythe. He could feel the pain lancing through his leg as Mephistopheles latched onto his leg with a whip of flames and began to pull himself forward. Harry closed his eyes. He remembered the sacrifice he had been willing to make, the death he had been willing to take for the safety of everyone else.

A caw of a crow snapped Harry out of his revelry and he held his right hand out. A crow, just a little bigger than a normal crow, landed on his forearm. Its jet black feathers were tipped in blood red, and the red eyes were beady as the crow looked to Harry. Dust, the familiar of Death. As Death, Harry could understand what Dust said through caws, and even had a mental bond with his familiar.

"We're going to return the Stone." He told Dust as he moved his arm to his shoulder and let the bird hop to his right shoulder. "It is only the right thing to do." They had taken the Stone in order to protect it better than some simple traps.

A shudder ran through Harry at the thought of Mephistopheles consuming a powerful magical stone like the Philosopher's Stone.

Harry glanced down to Despair, frowning slightly. Everything he read said that a Thestral had an uncanny sense of direction, always knowing where to go. All someone had to do was tell them where they wanted to go. But would Despair have the same sense of direction, and if so how? Harry doubted Despair had ever been to the Flamel's home.

"Nicolas Flamel's home, France." Harry told Despair. Despite his uncertainty to the action, he still spoke in an even and firm tone. He didn't want there to be any mistakes.

Despair's form wreathed in acidic green flames for a moment, creating a mane and a tail. Around his clawed feet the flames formed before he rushed forward, a harsh crack echoing around them as steed and rider disappeared.

Rather than disappearing and reappearing at their destination as they had done in the past, Harry was surprised to see them form in an eerie place. The path in front of them rose up to meet Despair's stomping talons and Dust took to flight. The sky was a dark murky blue with no sun to be had, shadows crept around them, twisting and taking forms.

Harry glanced around, noticing rippling water around them that the path rose from.

A deep, booming and resonating sounded around him causing Harry to look around for the source. He stared, fear gripping his heart as he came face to face with something his mind refused to fathom. There was no steeling himself from the fear he felt as he stared.

"**Calm yourself Pale Rider, they will not harm us." **The voice of Dust managed to break through to Harry and he grabbed at Despair tighter.

Harry finally was able to properly take in what he was seeing. "Hekatonkheires." He whispered softly. Greek Giants who helped the Gods win the battle against the Titans. They had a hundred arms and fifty heads and were stated to having thrown entire mountains upon the Titans. "Where are we?" he asked Dust.

"**The In-Between, a world of coming and going. The Lord of That-Which-Passes-Between has deemed that no Illusions shall be had in this World, so you hear my voice freely. Be wary of the Lord of That-Which-Passes-Between, he is neither friend nor foe, and so long as you do not stop in his realm, to continue pressing forward, his gaze will not come to you."**

Harry glanced to the water's surface, seeing his form had taken a more skeletal look. It was as though his aura was on full blast. He glanced to his fingers, noticing the bony appearance. "Is this what I truly look like?"

"**Yes, and No. You are the Pale Rider, your Aura is not held back. There are no illusions of power here, so your Aura is at full at the moment, turning you into the visage of the Pale Rider. In truth, you are both Harry Potter of raven hair and emerald eyes, and the Skeletal rider of the Pale Horse. It all depends on what magic you channel."**

Harry stared to the water for a while longer before he glanced up to the two Hekatonkheires. "I thought they guarded the Gates of Tartarus." He said. They held something by chains, massive chains held in each of their one hundred hands. The massive chains were pulled taut. The creature they held was… Its face was obscured by some sort of mask, its arms bound across its chest. Its form was gaunt from lack of nourishment and had some sort of bluish cocoon around its back. It let out an inhuman sound, the same booming sound Harry heard before.

"**They did, for a time. But the Lord of That-Which-Passes-Between called for them here. His brother and sister attempted a coup, to take his power as their own, despite the fact it does not belong to them. You are looking upon his sister."**

Harry thought of the punishment, unable to truly fathom it really. "And the brother?" he asked.

"**Look under, natives to this realm do not have a reflection."**

Harry panned his eyes downward to see chains binding in the reflection, another creature. Though this one was held down on all four like a dog instead, with long hair spilling around its head and down into the water. Its head had large horns that curled and dug into its body.

Thunderous footsteps sounded and Harry's attention was drawn to the third Hekatonkheir. Slowly, it took the chains from one of its brothers and pulled them just as taut. The Hekatonkheir freed of his burden slowly rose and lumbered off, even as Despair split away from them.

"**They rest for fifty years before giving a hundred years of service." **Dust said, flying closer to Despair. "**Never stop in this realm Harry; never bring anyone here that cannot escape by their own power. All the Riders' Steeds can traverse this realm. But being trapped here is the worst thing that can happen. It will misshape you, it will twist you, and it will drive you to madness the likes of which humankind cannot fathom. To be trapped, neither coming nor going in a realm where travel is natural… It is a cruel thing."**

Emerald flames enveloped them and they exited from the realm, coming back to the human realm, a place Harry was thankful to be back in.

Despite the dangers, it felt natural to him.

Harry found himself off to the side of a private road. Thick trees lined the area, except for a metal gate that led into some white walls. Harry dismounted from Despair and looked around the area, turning just slightly.

Despair nudged him towards the gate.

"Hey." He said, turning to his steed. He felt Dust settle on his shoulder and slowly he began to step towards the gates. He could feel the powerful wards in place, things that would take his full might to be able to break them down.

A full might he couldn't bring to bear at the moment.

Harry glanced upon the estate in the distance. He could see all sorts of docile magical creatures moving about the grounds. The chateau itself was done in white marble and looked to be an impressive architecture the likes of which could rival Versailles. He supposed that Flamel would have been alive at that point and likely rich as well.

Harry noted a modern intercom on the Gate and he stepped over to it to press on the buzz. "State your Business." The words were spoken in French, but Harry heard them as clear as though they were English.

He smiled slightly at the Cowl's effect happening first hand. It was the first time he had it happen. "Is this the Estate of Master Flamel?" he asked into the intercom. He wanted to be sure.

"It is, and Master Flamel has no time for autographs, charities, apprentices, or duels." The voice said, sounding rather bored.

"Tell Master Flame that I have his Stone." Harry said into the intercom before stepping away just slightly.

"Master Flamel will see you immediately." The voice sounded more alert and aware and the gates swung open on their own.

Harry glanced over to Despair. "Go home, I'll call you when I need picked up again." His steed erupted into brilliant green flames before disappearing. Harry then began to walk the path forward, stepping past the gates.

He stayed close to the patch, avoiding the magical creatures that would have had Hagrid swooning over them. As he got closer, he noticed guards stationed upon the roof of the chateau, both Mundane and Magical if the rifles were anything to go by.

He still made his way forward, breathing a bit easier. Security was understandable. Nicolas Flamel was a famous wizard, and his creation was the thing of legends. And Harry had it resting right inside his abdomen, to the left side.

He just hoped that Flamel would be in a decent mood. He could be quite angry that Harry had taken the Stone, no matter the intentions behind it.

Harry watched as the French Alchemist and his wife came out of their home personally. Nicolas Flamel looked to be a bit of a wreck, like the loss of his Stone had been eating at the man for months, and it likely was. His grey beard and hair were a little unkempt and his blue eyes had some bags under them. His black suit was not as pressed as it could be. All in all, he looked frazzled.

His wife Perenelle however still looked the epitome of sophistication. Her silver hair was pulled into a French braid and the light make-up she wore was impeccable. Whether she was less stressed about the stone being missing than her husband or she simply hid it better was debatable. She wore a black blazer with a dark blue blouse and a skirt that matched the blazer. Both husband and wife stepped towards him using long strides.

Harry kept his own long strides until he stood before them both. "Master Flamel, Mistress Flamel, my name is Harry Potter." Harry offered politely. Both were Masters in the arts of Alchemy, but six hundred some odd years would do that.

"You have my Stone?" Nicolas asked, sounding almost like a desperate man being thrown a life line. "Truly?" Harry could only nod. "Let me see it." He said, part pleading and part demanding.

Harry hesitated a moment. He couldn't show it. "I can't." He saw the man's face darken. "But I do have it. I put it in the safest place I could think of." Harry explained and touched his side with his left hand. "It's right about here…" he said, looking into the Alchemist's blue eyes.

Nicolas reached out and touched the boy's side. There… under the flesh. He felt it pulse, he felt it calling to him. He felt the boy jerk a little bit, having no doubt felt the Stone's pulsing. "He has it Love," he said sounding so full of relief when he glanced back to his wife.

Perenelle nodded softly. "I would very much like to know why you did not come forward when we visited Hogwarts. You are clearly a school boy of the institution." She said.

Nicolas nodded, looking to the Harry's emerald green eyes. "I would too. However, come inside. I will have my personal physician retrieve the Stone if it is inside of you. He will make sure it is done properly." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and began to lead him inside the Chateau.

"Simply put, Mistress Flamel," Harry spoke without hesitation or fear of them. "In a foolish error born of childish rebelliousness, I took the stone from the place Headmaster Dumbledore had placed it. When I figured out what it was, I knew it had to be returned to its creators. An owl could have been intercepted and then it would have been lost to the world.

"However, it needed safeguarded until such a time as I could get the Stone back to the both of you. I had no idea you two would be coming to Hogwarts that day, but that day was the day I performed the surgery to place the stone inside of myself." Nicolas picked up on the fact Harry wasn't telling them everything very quickly.

However, regarding his Stone, he would give quite a lot to ensure its safe return to him. They could just kill the boy and take the Stone, however he balked at the thought of killing a child. He knew some of his security, former military types, would do it if he wanted, but he would not ask for it.

The inside of his home was done with much opulence and taste, thanks to his beautiful wife and the wonders of alchemy. White marble, gold, black granite were in abundance, making it a grand place. He spoke quickly to one of his security members to call for his personal healer, a man that had been tending to both Flamels for almost six hundred years. It was simply best to keep him around using the Elixir so that they didn't have to go through the process of having another Healer learn about them.

"Mister Potter, this is Healer Johnathan Demonbreun." Nicolas offered.

Harry quickly sized up the Healer. He had greying hair cut short and sharp blue eyes hidden behind a pair of silver framed glasses. He was currently sizing up Harry with those blue eyes as well, his gaze pausing momentarily at the scar upon Harry's brow.

Harry did not shy away from the gaze, but at the same time he didn't try to make it more visible. His scar was simply just another mark upon his body.

"Johnathan, this young man placed the Philosopher's Stone inside him. I trust you'll be able to retrieve it with minimal complications." Nicolas said.

Johnathan nodded before he stepped forward, offering a hand to Harry with a warm smile. "A pleasure Mister Potter, your scar has been contemplated about Healers the world over for many years already."

Harry accepted the hand, giving the man a firm handshake. "I can't offer any insight into it I'm afraid." Harry said politely. "I know next to nothing about it myself." A partial lie. Harry knew how he survived, just not why the wound scarred

Johnathan turned. "Come, follow me. I'll show you to the operating room."

Harry followed behind Johnathan, reaching up to gently stroke Dust's beak when his crow gave a caw. "It's okay Dust." He said softly. They needed to do this.

It wasn't long before they were in an operating room, with Harry being left there to remove his clothes, being given a hospital gown to change into. He did so and got on the cool operating table. It was not going to be a quick thing, and he had a feeling he would be put under for the procedure.

The Healer came in shortly after and asked a few basic questions that would help him treat Harry in the aftermath of the surgery. He also attempted a few diagnostic spells on the young Heir, but Johnathan noticed that nothing he tried would work, a sure sign of magical saturation if he ever saw one.

He went and got a mundane anesthetic that would quickly set to work on the young Heir. He also went and got some mundane tools, such as a scalpel and stitching material. It wouldn't do to try and make the incision on Harry with his wand when he knew it wouldn't work. He then injected Harry with the anesthesia, telling Harry to count down from one hundred.

He was unconscious before he hit seventy

Opening the sterile packages, picking up a scalpel, he set to work making the incision, frowning more and more behind his face mask at what he saw.

Harry was outwardly physically fit and healthy. But his insides, to a trained eye, said a completely different story. And it stemmed from the blood red stone tucked inside Harry's body, hanging from the ribs quite securely.

Johnathan's brows knit while he set to work.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry sat dressed once more in an office, looking over at the Healer that had operated on him and had stitched him up. The surgery had been done two hours ago, and had taken a little over three hours to perform.

The blood red stone sat between them on the desk in a tray, washed and cleaned of his blood from its resting spot since before November. His eyes stared into the blue eyes of the Healer, watching and listening to the ticking of a clock sitting on a mantle.

Johnathan licked his lips slowly, clearly trying to figure out where to begin. "Mr. Potter, do you know how witches and wizards produce magic?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. It was one of those types of questions that he had never really found an answer to. Guess he didn't have enough medical journals for reading material.

Johnathan nodded. "I could write over a dozen medical journals on the subject filled with theories, experimentations, and observations from those experiments. I have had five hundred year to practice medicine Mr. Potter, and every time I think I have things figured out, something new comes along and changes everything.

"Your body runs on three broadly general things. It technically runs on more, but for the sake of the conversation and not boring you with all the medical jargon, we'll keep it to three. You have carbohydrates, proteins, and fats. Your magic siphons off a share of this when you eat to produce into magic that is stored in your reserves. The bigger your reserves, the more magic you can store but the longer it takes to completely fill them after emptying them.

"Once full, your magic bleeds off as you eat more and don't use your magic. This keeps you from turning into a walking bomb of magical energy. With me so far?" Johnathan asked of Harry, wanting to make sure the young man understood.

Harry inclined his head a bit. It made sense. "Magic is a part of the body of a witch or wizard, so it is fueled by what fuels the body." He said.

"Good, now to some this might seem like they don't need to exercise. This is a false idea and should not take root in your head." Johnathan said, giving a slight frown. "I don't think it will in your case Mr. Potter, but continue exercising as you have. But because you're exercising you're burning fuel in a Mundane way, taking fuel away from the body and from your magic.

"Your reserves have, by my estimate, never truly been full. I'm not saying to gorge yourself Mr. Potter, but it is my professional medical recommendation that you need to eat more, a full meal's worth more a day." Johnathan said. "This will supply you with the necessary fuel to exercise and for your magic to fill your reserves."

Harry inclined his head, making a mental note to eat more. "More food every day, I understand." He said.

Johnathan nodded. "Now, this brings me to a point I wish to make Mr. Potter, and I will hammer this point home before you leave that chair. Under no circumstances can you stress yourself as you have been Mr. Potter. Your body is so saturated in your own magic that I cannot heal you through magical means. I need your word on this Mr. Potter, you won't try to stress yourself. Nothing beyond what is required of a second year Hogwarts student."

Harry shook his head, thoughts immediately popping to his mind regarding those beyond the Veil of Death. "I can't promise that." Harry said firmly.

Johnathan removed his glasses a moment and pinned Harry with a stare. "Mr. Potter, I don't claim to know how or why you stressed your magic the way you did and Master Flamel is respecting your privacy in that if you do not wish to say I cannot force you." The Healer pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before he looked to Harry's eyes.

Green met with blue unflinchingly and the blue eyes of Johnathan Demonbreun hardened. "Mr. Potter, if you stress your magic that much again, you. Will. Die." The healer was adamant as his blue eyes bore into Harry's eyes, getting the boy's attention on the matter.

"Die?" Harry asked softly, eyes slightly widening in surprise.

"You've already had a heart attack, it is through sheer dumb luck that you're alive Mr. Potter. I can't operate on you to fix the damage through magic because of your magical saturation. Your left kidney has been removed, irreparably damaged by the Philosopher's Stone being inside of you and parts of your intestine had to be cut away and circumvented as well.

"Mr. Potter, when you attempt to cast without any magic in your reserves, your magic sends feelers out through the body, saturating the cells with your magic. It searches for any spare fats, carbohydrates, or proteins that will let it produce magic for you to pump out. But in your case, with such a low body fat percentage, there is nothing for these feelers to grab onto.

"Instead, they go for the next best thing for the magic. They start leeching off your organs, taking away from the structures and causing failures. Another few spells while you had been running on fumes would have seen your heart stopping. I cannot fix the damage done to you, no Healer can. You are saturated from Head to toe with your magical energy." Johnathan said fiercely. "So you had better listen to me Mr. Potter, you cannot stress yourself like that again."

Harry slumped back in his seat, letting his head fall slightly. He had come close to fighting to death against Mephistopheles. He knew it had been dangerous, but to hear just how dangerous, that he had almost… Harry pressed his palm to his forehead, groaning slightly. It complicated matters something fiercely.

He couldn't just make such a promise, he had no idea if he would ever need to fight to the fullest of his abilities. He had no idea if he would ever need to fight until he dropped dead.

And perhaps Johnathan saw this. "Mr. Potter, return to me during the Christmas Holidays. I will make arrangements with Master Flamel for you to return here. By then the magical saturation should have bled off, you'll have had your reserves filled to the brim, and I can see about healing the damage. Please Mr. Potter, nothing stressful until then."

Harry sighed slowly. Even that sort of time frame he wasn't entirely certain he could promise on. However, he looked up to Johnathan Demonbreun. "I will try." He said, it was the best either of them could expect. "Trouble, I'm afraid, has a way of finding me. But I… I will try to take things a little easier." It would also mean he'd have to ease up on his work outs. He couldn't stress a weakened heart, and he knew a heart attack would have damaged it.

Johnathan nodded. 'Very well Mr. Potter. I've made sure your side won't scar, and I have also taken care of the nasty burns on your leg. It will still need a bit of time to heal, but the salve is a little better than the one you have been using." The man stood up and picked up the Philosopher's Stone, holding it out to Harry. "Take this to Master Flamel. And this, is an exercise routine you can do until I can heal your properly." He handed a pamphlet to Harry

Harry accepted the stone and the pamphlet before looking to the old physician. "Thank you." He said inclining his head before he turned on his heel and walked out of the office. His mind was reeling from everything that he had been told, and the fact of the matter was he had no reason not to believe the Healer.

In truth, he also had no reason to believe the Healer, but Harry figured Nicolas Flamel wouldn't have kept him around for over five hundred years if he didn't know what he was talking about.

-_Scene Break-_

Harry entered the study of Nicolas Flamel and was instantly amazed by it. He could see dozens of ceiling to floor lengths of parchment regarding various alchemic arrays. He briefly ignored the elderly Alchemist waiting patiently for his prized stone to go and examine one of the master works.

Harry's brief readings into Alchemy allowed him to grasp some of what he saw, but for the most part it was all out of his grasp. "Wow." He whispered softly, reaching up to touch the parchment, but not on the array.

He turned to look at Nicolas. "A three point array for transmutation? I didn't think it was possible. Most arrays are five, seven, or eleven points within the circle." He said. Not that Harry was a master Alchemist or anything, but he had done some readings.

Nicolas smiled proudly. "Ah, a budding alchemist. Yes, a three point array for Transmutation. It's not complete I'm afraid, the equations around the binding ring aren't complete. I have worked on that for the past two hundred years, but I am almost positive that it is possible to power it."

Harry looked over the binding ring on the outside of the triangle, looking at the tiny strokes that showed the equations that Harry could only begin to guess at. "What would it do?" Harry asked, he could only imagine.

"Produce the Perfect Substance." Flamel said, standing up and walking over to it. "A substance like a Noble Gas in that it is stable, but solid as a Metal while also being flexible. Something that can take any shape we give it. But experimenting has been… slow going."

Harry's eyes widened at that. His head turned back to the array. He wondered briefly if he would ever live to see it completed. "It is beautiful." He concluded finally. He turned to look at Nicolas for a moment, noticing the way the man smiled proudly at his creation.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. It is a beautiful thing." Perenelle said stepping closer to her husband and kissing his cheek. "But we need our Stone back to continue experimenting. The costs of such a project are astronomical. And while we are well off, the Stone helps with our alchemic experimentations with its properties." She held out a piece of Parchment.

Harry handed the Stone over and took the parchment a little curiously. He unfurled it and his eyes widened at the sight of what was on it. "I can't accept this." He said closing it up and looking to the aged Veela.

It was a draft for the Gnomes that ran France's Magical banks to transfer an astronomical sum of gold to Gringotts for Harry.

Nicolas shook his head. "You have returned something far more precious than gold Mr. Potter, and the reward for returning it to me when I visited Hogwarts was that student's weight in gold."

Harry shook his head. "No, I cannot accept this. I have more than enough gold as it is." He practically had to force it back into the hands of the two alchemists.

Nicolas frowned a moment. "I insist on some sort of reward Mr. Potter." He said with his wife giving a slight nod at his side.

Harry bit his tongue a moment before glancing to the three point array. He looked back to the alchemists. "I would be honored if you had any journals or books on alchemy you could spare." He said. "It is difficult to find anything of worth, and you two are the world's premier experts in Alchemy."

Harry left France with a trunk loaded with more books and journals on Alchemy than he had ever thought he would have. The Flamels had dozens of books and journals that they were all too happy to give to a good home to, their contents having long since been memorized.

-Chapter End-

A/N: Guess who's back!

That's right folks, Harry is back as Death in a brand spanking new adventure, and I thought I would show some of the complications of the last story and tie up a few loose ends while I was at it.

Harry, as we now know, is handicapped until Christmas. How will he cope with that?

Now a few things regarding the story and my decision to continue it all in one story. I'm hoping that by continuing this story in the same story that I will get more readers to come and enjoy it. That might not happen if I start a brand new book for chapter 2. So I've made some modifications to the story, I've changed the title, changed the summary suck as it was and suck as it is, and I will just make one long story.

That being said, I will label everything nice and clearly as what chapter of what book. Personally, I read on my smart phone most the time. I've taken a few suggestions and I've worked them into this new book also.

Enjoy!

HBW, out.


	29. Book 2: Chapter 2

_Last Time: Harry has returned Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone and in the process learned how close to death he brushed when fighting against Mephistopheles._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 2

Harry sat in the study at Potter Manor, checking over his work carefully. It had been four weeks since his excursion out to France, making it early July. When he got back, he immediately set about the work that he had been neglecting since he got out of Hogwarts.

Through Gringotts, for a fee of course, he managed to get enrolled in summer classes that would keep his mundane education up. For the past few weeks he had devoured the knowledge necessary and set about doing the work. A summer's worth of work he did in four weeks.

He was finishing it up and making sure it was all up to the flawless work he did at Hogwarts. He refused to allow his work to be substandard. He had slept, ate, and rested during that time frame. But he was back to only sleeping five hours a night, waking up before the crack of dawn. He couldn't really work out just yet, his stitches hadn't dissolved, but he was able to focus on his mundane work.

He sealed everything into the envelope and sent it off to his Account Manager at Gringotts. They would, of course, be able to finalize everything and send it off to be graded and returned to him. His mother had done much the same he found out, doing work under Horace Slughorn to earn the extra money in order to pay the fees associated with such a thing.

Gringotts, after all, could forge the necessary documentation for Hogwarts to make it seem like a prestigious and private boarding school of the mundane with… unorthodox classes.

Harry stood up and headed downstairs to get some lunch. Millie, the Head Potter House-Elf, always had excellent food for him, and had taken to his preferences without a problem. Of course, she also didn't have a problem cooking more for him when he had come back from his excursion to France.

And four weeks of eating just a little bit more each day had done wonders for him. He had more energy than he had felt in years, and his ankle had healed itself up well enough with his salve that it didn't leave too bad of a scar.

As Harry ate his lunch of a BLT on toast, his mind wandered to what he should do with his time. He should probably check on Sirius. He mentioned that he had a friend he wanted Harry to meet. Of course that meant going to… To…

Wait… To where?

Harry's brows furrowed as he continued to eat. He could have sworn he knew where Sirius lived. Sirius lived at… It was something to do with the Blacks, but the location didn't come to mind. He couldn't think of an address or even the location.

Harry's finished his food and pinched the bridge of his nose a moment, thinking hard. He knew… He knew where it was. It was… it was a whisper in the back of his brain, but he just couldn't bring the words to his lips. The location was lost in a fog that shouldn't be there.

Dust cawed at Harry's mental probing. The crow could not remember either, something that was impossible. Dust remembered everything.

Harry thrummed his fingers on the table. It was disconcerting not knowing something he should have known. It was disconcerting to know that Dust had forgotten as well. It had to be an incredibly powerful charm to erase the existence of… whatever it was from their minds.

Harry stood up tall and proud with all the poise and grace of a pureblood, even if he was in a pair of trousers with a simple black t-shirt and a pair of black trainers. "Kreacher!" he bellowed out. As Heir Black, the House Elf should respond to his calls.

With the call, Kreacher popped into the kitchen and bowed low enough his long ears brushed the floor. "Minor Master calls Kreacher?" he asked as he straightened up. The crazy old elf had taken a liking to Harry after the purging of the Horcrux from Slytherin's locket.

Harry knelt down in front of Kreacher, looking into the large tennis ball like eyes of the House Elf. "What has happened?" Harry asked firmly. "I know Sirius is where he's supposed to be, but I don't know where that's at. I can't… I can't remember Kreacher. I can't remember where I met you. Where is the Black home?"

Kreacher's ears drooped as his head hung low. "Kreacher cannot say Minor Master. Bad disgraceful Master Black has done something to…" Kreacher's mouth worked to say the words, but nothing came out, and it wasn't something intelligible enough to attempt lip reading. "But Kreacher cannot say where it is Minor Master, Kreacher is sorry."

Sirius had done something? Harry frowned thoughtfully. It was not like he expected Sirius to tell him everything that he did as Lord Black, but something like this should have warranted a warning, an explanation, something other than Harry just figuring it out one day.

Harry stood up to his full height once more. He checked his wrists for his wand and his knife before he held his hand, with the Black Heir ring, out to Kreacher. "Take me to Sirius, Kreacher." If the elf could not say where it was, then he would have to just take Harry to Sirius for Harry to attempt to beat the information from the man.

Kreacher bowed before taking the hand. With a pop, they vanished from Potter Manor to a home. Harry felt it looked familiar. He could swear he had been there before, but it was like the memories were purged from his mind as he stepped through the home.

He could hear a bustle of activity coming from one of the rooms and he began to make his way over towards it. He pushed the doors open and all activity stopped. Harry's eyes panned over the large congregation of people and he felt his temper flare and his Aura begin to build.

At a quick head count, he counted over fifteen people, most of them strangers who he had no idea who they were. Then there was Dumbledore sitting at the head of the congregation. He had been speaking with Alastor Moody. Filius Flitwick was there, sitting near Minerva McGonagall and Rebeus Hagrid, having a discussion.

Sirius sat near a ragged looking man with brown hair liberally streaked with grey and Harry charged in towards the man, frost forming at each foot step as he locked onto Sirius' eyes. He could also see Kingsley Shacklebolt with a younger looking witch with neon yellow hair.

"What is this?" Harry asked, his voice a snarl. "What in the world is going on through your brain Sirius?" he asked. His anger was a biting, cold like a frigid blizzard. "First, Something occurs that makes me, your Heir, forget all about the location of this place. Even now I can't recall where I'm at, all I know is it is in some connection to the Blacks.

"Then, then you invite a load of strangers in beyond the wards?" Harry couldn't help his fury. Worse, the frost had begun to spread beyond Harry's feet, turning into a patch of ice. He could tell people were drawing their wands on him. "Are you out of your mind?! This is not done Sirius!"

Sirius stood up quickly. "Pup, Harry." He said putting his hands on Harry's shoulders, staring down to the furious emerald green eyes. "A moment." He moved off to Dumbledore and got something. "This should help clear some things up." Sirius said, passing Harry a scrap of parchment.

Harry looked to it. '_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.' _Something clicked in Harry's brain and he remembered that he was inside the Black Ancestral Home. He was in the drawing room of the place which had been cleaned to the point the wooden floors shined.

Kreacher did good work in six months.

Harry passed the slip of paper back to the man. "Headquarters?" he asked. "What is the Order of the Phoenix?" His tone was still ice cold, his fury at the man still quite poignant.

"The Order is a clandestine organization that's committed to battling the forces on the Dark side of Magic." Sirius said quite proudly, maybe thinking it would impress Harry. It didn't. "It was founded back during the war with Grindelwald and continued against You-Know-Who. After the events at the end of your first year, Dumbledore decided to bring the Order back. Something about the entity he fought, we're trying to find out more about them."

Harry gritted his teeth a bit. He wanted to snap at everyone there that they were attempting to deal with forces that they had no idea about. They couldn't fathom the powers of those Beyond the Veil. But Harry could not be connected with Death like that. "And you didn't think to ask my opinion to turn the Black Ancestral Home, a place that has stood at this location for over two hundred years, a place that the Goblins renovated at my insistence into the Headquarters for this group?" he barked at Sirius. Such a decision, without even being informed of it before the decision occurred, did not endear Sirius to Harry.

"Please Harry." Sirius said softly, trying to placate his young Heir who seemed very angry and very powerful. Just by being within arms' reach made things bitingly cold for Sirius. It felt like he was back in Azkaban, suffering near Hypothermia during the brutal winters. "I wanted to do something useful, and I've never liked this house. It can be put to good use."

Harry turned on his heel and stalked between the members. His footsteps were still light and silent but ice formed under each step, and Harry was certain his eyes glowed something fiercely

"Harry, where are you going?" Sirius asked, moving to catch up with the young man.

"I'm leaving. I will have no part in such nonsense." Harry said fiercely. And that was what it was to him, utter nonsense.

"It's not safe." Sirius said stepping after Harry and trying to keep him from leaving the house. "These things feed on Magic Harry, and you're quite powerful already. I don't want you getting attacked."

Harry glared at Sirius. He had been angry the entire time, something he needed to speak with Dust regarding. He however moved towards the door anyways.

Sirius hesitated a moment. "Harry, I'm really, really sorry. As Lord Black, I decree you cannot leave."

Harry's spine stiffened and his movement paused. He turned to stare at Sirius in part disbelief and part anger. The Wards were now on heavy lockdown regarding Harry and Harry could not rescind the Lord's decree. Harry moved towards a window and splayed his hand along it. He focused his powers of ice on the window before he kicked it. The window didn't even budge an inch.

Harry spun and charged towards Sirius, grabbing him by the front of his robes and slamming him into a wall. It didn't matter that the man had at least foot and a half of height on him. Harry was strong for his size and he let his fury build inside of him and empower him. "Release me!" he snarled at the man, not even caring if there was an audience of strangers.

Harry was not some Paragon of Good, he was a human being.

"No." Unfortunately, so was Sirius and humans were prone to moments of profound stupidity.

Harry snarled and drew the man back only to slam him into the wall again. Slowly he let go of Sirius' robes. Harry's face was an icy mask and he allowed his emerald eyes lose any and all fury to them. His fury was cold as ice, and the words cut deeper than any physical word. "Very well Lord Black, I shall retire to the library. Do not send for me."

And with that, Harry stalked up the stairs to the library, no longer leaving ice in his wake. But the moment the door was closed, he blasted it with his powers over ice, sealing it just as effectively as any ward might have.

Sirius sighed softly. Things had not gone over as he had hoped they would. But he was honestly worried about Harry and he wanted his godson to be safe. Not much was known about the things Dumbledore encountered alongside this… personification of Death. Sirius believed Dumbledore when he said the old man encountered an enemy unlike anything they had ever encountered.

And if they gained the attributes of things the ate, like Death told Dumbledore… Sirius shivered slightly and it had little to do with the cold he was still feeling from his Godson's magic. Sirius had noted, almost immediately, that Harry was magically powerful. Sirius felt like a man coming upon a glacier.

As big as it was outwardly, underneath there was far more to be had.

Surely someone as powerful as Harry would be bait for something that fed on magic. So Sirius wanted to try and protect Harry. He knew, with the Order's headquarters being at his home, many older witches and wizards would be there to help protect Harry if one of those things came looking for a meal.

It meant that Harry couldn't leave and it had killed part of him to bring up the wards on his Godson like that.

"It is for the best." Dumbledore said, having come up behind Sirius, placing a hand on the young Lord Black's shoulder. "He is safest here, where we can protect him."

In truth, Dumbledore didn't want Harry without an adult around him. If his fears of Harry being Death were true, then Dumbledore didn't want Harry to be swayed to the darker aspects of magic. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to become like Tom. And there were many similarities between Tom and Harry already.

**-**_**Scene Break-**_

Over the next few days, Harry was not idle. Being Heir Black, and a Black by Blood through his paternal Grandmother, Harry had access to the Black Library. More specifically, he had access to all of the Black Library. It was filled with all sorts of useful, albeit questionable books.

He gathered a tome on battle spells and another on ancient runes, but for the most part he stuck with something that he wanted to look into more than anything else.

Spell creation.

He wanted to make a powerful ice spell that would give even one from Beyond the Veil pause. Unfortunately, until he got back to Hogwarts he couldn't practice it. He was regulated to looking for how the various pieces fit together in other spells, looking through notes and notes and tomes upon tomes.

It wasn't like he could do anything else.

Molly Weasley had attempted to get him to come out of the library when she arrived with many of her children in tow. He hadn't even released the ice from the door at her speaking. Ron had attempted to coax him out as well, but that had been even less successful.

Especially since Harry couldn't take Ron to his promised sponsored Chess tournament. Harry hated being made out to be a liar. It was something he would have to rectify the moment he got out. Harry already had his way out, he just had to be patient with it.

Harry knew Sirius was savvy enough to keep an eye on Harry. Various members of the Order did so. And through Dust's eyes, Harry was able to tell precisely who was keeping an eye on him. Dust, after all, was not forbidden from leaving. So Dust had left through a window in the Library and flew to a window at the hallway where he could keep an eye on the changing guards.

Someone like Alastor Moody or Kingsley Shacklebolt were vigilant in their watch. Even the Witch with bright Neon Yellow hair that changed to electric blue with streaks of silver was rather vigilant, if a bit bored some times.

Harry liked her, she entertained herself by changing shape.

However, Harry also refused to allow anyone, including Flitwick inside the library while he was studying and practicing. In truth, it was because of the complex nature of what he was studying and the volatile components of spell crafting.

Spell crafters usually worked in impregnable bunkers that would have no outside interference while they worked on their master pieces. Harry had a library.

And Apparating, as Sirius had found out, was dangerous. Harry would unleash an icy flurry of spears and lances at whoever tried to Apparate into the room. Harry had almost ensured he was to be the Black Heir when one of the lances almost castrated Sirius.

That had been an accident since Harry had reacted without really looking.

He set his pen down, looking to the parchment that held his notes regarding his spell before he nodded ever so slightly to himself. It was as good as he was going to get without trying it, and there would be no trying it until he got back to Hogwarts.

Not because of some useless underage restriction of Magic, but because of the sheer devastating potential for his spell. He was calling upon the highest entity of Ice Magic.

Harry stretched himself out slowly. He would probably be more receptive to visitors now that he was done working on his spell. He stood up and twisted himself carefully. He usually waited until everyone was asleep before taking care of his needs.

Straight to a shower and then back in the library. Kreacher brought him food and the pillows and blankets to make a pallet.

He was still furious with Sirius, but he had channeled his anger into something productive.

And he had found out through Dust that the locks on his emotions had been irreparably shattered. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't used to the bubbling swirl of emotions inside of him. His anger had been something rather great.

Dust said it had likely occurred when Adrian had 'died'. Harry would have to learn more control.

He heard a soft knock and polite knock sound at the door. He frowned a moment and closed his eyes. Through Dust's eyes, he could see the bushy haired form of Hermione Granger. Shaking his head, he allowed the ice to shift apart, folding into an arch with irregular pieces. He opened the door.

Before she could speak however, he yanked her in and the door slammed shut, his knife was out and at her throat. "This past Halloween, I saved you from a troll." He said. "Before that, I was dressed as what?" he asked.

Hermione's brown expressive eyes were wide with fear as she trembled. They welled up a little with tears as she swallowed. "T-the Grim Reaper." She said.

Harry sighed and stepped back, tucking his knife away. "Sorry Hermione." He said shaking his head a little bit. "I've been stuck in this house for a few days, I've been under a lot of stress, and there's someone here that can shapeshift. I've even seen her turn into a replica of Alastor Moody. Suffice to say, I'm a little cranky with people trying to come talk to me, and I'm still angry with Sirius."

Hermione trembled a little bit longer and Harry gave her a moment to compose herself and let his words sink in. "I'm sure Lord Black and Professor Dumbledore have their reasons Harry." She said softly.

Harry shook his head. "No reason is good enough for this. They aren't infallible." He said.

Hermione nodded. "You're right, Lord Black is worried about you though." She said softly. She did not have some sort of belief that those in authority were always right. They were still human after all.

Harry shook his head, looking around the room with obvious disgust. "This place is a prison Hermione. A nice one, but a prison all the same." He looked to her brown eyes a moment. "And I hate being cooped up."

He hated being in the house truthfully. He was usually able to drown the feelings out, the knowledge that if his claustrophobia got to be too much he could go outside and fly around for a bit on Despair. But being trapped inside Number 12. It was…

It was driving him to be angry even more.

"Have you told Sirius that?" Hermione asked stepping closer.

"Course not." Harry said, shaking his head. He sighed. "I know I'm being stupid and pigheaded about this Hermione, but I hate admitting my weaknesses. Even telling you I hate being cooped up bothers me." Having to actually say it to Sirius who might not keep such a thing secret…

No, better to just escape as soon as he could.

Hermione lightly placed her hand on his arm. "Be careful Harry." She said softly. "I got asked to try and coax you out, but I think I know better. I'll go see if Kreacher wouldn't mind showing me the family tree." She said.

Harry then watched the bushy haired girl leave the room. Immediately after she left, his icy arch turned into a solid sheet of ice blocking the door once more. Harry breathed out heavily. He would have likely turned her away had she tried to come in ten minutes earlier.

Harry set to work putting the books back and preparing to do something to pass the time.

Creating a runic way out to act as a decoy.

_**-Scene Break-**_

It was time. After a week and a half of being cooped up inside the Black Ancestral Home at Number 12, it was time for Harry to make his escape. It was the dead of the night, Moody was nowhere near the premises, and his guard was a poor excuse of a wizard who tried to pocket a few things, until Harry gave Kreacher permission to zap the thief any time that he tried.

Said wizard was asleep, snoring quite soundly.

Harry made plenty of room, pushing bookshelves aside. He needed to make plenty of room. The past few days, he had learned a few things. He talked about the Fidelius Charm on the place with Flitwick. It was an impressive piece of magic, if a bit tedious in Harry's mind.

But, it wouldn't matter to Harry's means of escape, and even if it did, he had a secondary means that he had worked on as well. With Dust on his shoulder, the cowl drawn up, and the Resurrection Stone on his hand, he would be a beacon. "Despair." He whispered to word out just before he pulsed his magic along his artifacts and his familiar.

His steed appeared in a whisper of green flames. Harry stepped forward and mounted the steed, stroking his pale neck. "Home." He whispered to Despair, and it soon whispered away again. No one would know he had left for several hours.

It would be a great mystery for the occupants of the house for some time.

_**-Scene Break-**_

Harry brushed himself off when he stepped out of the Floo. He had sent a note over to Susan two days ago, saying he was coming over. He apologized that he was coming rather unannounced as well as not giving her plenty of time in advance.

In truth, he hated being inside Potter Manor at the moment. He kept having people Floo call him, mainly people from this… Order of the Phoenix, that wanted him to return to the 'safety' of Number 12. Harry was perfectly safe at Potter Manor, where he had his full Death Regalia, as well as the wards and other defenses.

Besides, he wasn't going to be fighting another creature from Beyond the Veil yet. The Spirits of the other Pale Riders kept them back, at least for a time. It would take another gateway, like the Mirror of Erised, or one of the creatures breaking free from their prison on this plane.

Of course, they could also be summoned, but to be stupid enough to summon one… Harry never wanted to meet that person, he would be obligated to cull the gene pool of their stupidity.

Edmund, the Bones family House-Elf and sister to Millie, the Potter family House Elf, popped in. "Ah, Heir Potter, you made it." Edmund said with a bit of a bow before raising his hand and vanishing the soot and ash from Harry's form. "Excellent. The Mistress and Young Lady Susan have been worried… The Lord Black had thought you been kidnapped."

Harry kneeled down to the Elf in the suit, complete with a tailcoat. "Edmund, is the Lord Black here?" he asked curiously. If Sirius was there, Harry was gone. He'd go right back out the Floo gate.

Edmund shook his head. "Not at all Heir Potter. Now come, the Mistress would like to speak with you."

Harry nodded and stood up to follow behind the House-Elf. Hopefully he wouldn't be grilled by Madam Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He wasn't dressed for dealing with Law Enforcement.

When Harry donned the more regal clothes, he put on a persona. This ice cold, untouchable aristocrat that had no dirty secrets to be found that had all the right connections, that was Harry's persona. When he put on the formal dress robes, made from the finest materials and made by the finest crafters, Harry was Scion of House Potter and House Black.

When he was dressed in a pair of black trousers and a dark blue collared t-shirt, he was simply… Harry. No impending lordships, no titles, just… Harry.

And he wanted his friends, like Susan, to be more comfortable around him. To know he relaxed around them.

Still, Harry walked behind Edmund towards the drawing room, noting both Susan and Hannah almost immediately. However, it was Amelia Bones that drew his attention.

For just a brief moment, he could see why she had made it to the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, even in the bigoted government that currently ruled.

Amelia Bones crossed the room in several long strides, all determined and battle ready grace. Her footsteps were light and he doubted she knew about the transition. "Mr. Potter, do you know how many people you have worried with your stunt?" she asked in a tight tone.

Harry didn't back down or flinch from the cold gaze she was giving him. "I was not remaining there, regardless of what others thought." He said, actually taking a half step forward. "I will not be confined by anyone, anywhere. Do you know Albus Dumbledore actually had the gall to try and send me back to my mother's relatives?"

It had been a footnote, in Harry's mind, towards the end of the last year. He had dismissed the idea of doing so almost the second Dumbledore had brought it up. Harry had even walked out of the meeting when the old man had attempted to guilt Harry into going back, citing his relatives' safety.

Harry shook his head. "I will not be trapped." He said. "I will not be taken out of the magical world, and I will not be treated like a criminal when I have done nothing wrong. If I am not welcomed here, fine. I will take my leave. And if you try to hold me against my will, Madam Bones, I will escape again and my respect for you will drop to zero. And I hold you in quite the high regard." Harry was getting aggressive with his anger, he needed to practice his Occlumency more if this was going to be a common occurrence.

Amelia held her hands up, as though to stave off his verbal attack. "Sirius was just worried about your safety Harry." She said softer, trying to be reasonable. It seemed like a reasonable thing to her. She was also switching gears, remembering that Harry, for all his maturity, was still a child. He wouldn't like being told what to do.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more before it settled. Harry shook his head and looked to Amelia, slowly relaxing himself. It wouldn't do to get mad with her. "I saw what happened at the end of the school year, likely better than anyone. I was at a good vantage point and I had witnessed it since they took their fight to ground, before this… Death raised the undead." Harry said slowly, trying to make his point. He knew that Amelia would know, Harry had already given a statement to Kingsley regarding it.

"I watched as that creature took a blast from Godric Gryffindor, a blast of magic powerful enough to blow a hole in the wards of Hogwarts, wards that have remained standing for over a thousand years. And that creature stood back up, walked out of a crater." Harry looked up to the taller woman a moment, wanting to convey the horror he had felt at watching Mephistopheles rise.

"Dumbledore, Sirius, and this Order of the Phoenix thing want to research something like that?" Harry asked disbelieving. "I don't care if they had the backing of several countries, with the best and brightest minds available in every field of study. Something like that? What if they summon one, even by accident? What then?"

Amelia chewed on that nugget of information. She couldn't help but feel that Harry indeed had a point. There were too many unknowns, and it was… disconcerting. Dumbledore, for all his wisdom, knew next to nothing about these things, and the one person that did have an inkling to them had disappeared off the face of the earth. "And if another one were to come about?" she asked, using Harry more as a sounding board for the idea. "Say, the Order doesn't research them in the slightest and another one comes about?" she asked.

How did a wizard fight something like that?

Harry thought on it. He would be there, but he couldn't say that. He didn't want to have to try and fight his way out of the Bones Manor, nor did he want to have all of England after him. But she rose a point that would be difficult to explain. "Hope and prayers will only go so far." Harry said slowly, more to himself. He looked to Amelia's face a bit more. "You hit it with everything you can and hope it would be enough. I would focus less on the creatures, and more on what destroyed the one at Hogwarts." He said.

Even Harry didn't know precisely what he did. He knew it had been Soul Magic of some sort, but what precisely he would likely never know. The images he had seen had been disconcerting as well. They were not from the Harvester after all.

"That's not exactly comforting." Amelia said. While in the past, the Order of the Phoenix had been little more than a vigilante group that should have had its members arrested, they had done nothing wrong this time so far. "I'd rather them study it." She wanted to know its weaknesses.

Harry clucked his tongue slightly. "And what happens, Madam Bones, if they summon one of these things in downtown London? What then? These things would obviously not care about the Statute of Secrecy. We're talking about possibly thousands of Mundane seeing one of these things, thousands of Mundane getting slaughtered. Maybe more. London is a densely populated city."

Amelia looked stunned for a moment, thinking. As the Head of the DMLE, she knew why such a thing would be bad. Fudge might order them to try and Obliviate the Mundanes, give them memories of gas line explosions and such or isolated and random disasters, but the fact of the matter was that there would be too many for the DMLE to handle effectively.

Obliviators worked quickly. But the size of the population of London would mean that they'd be taking Weeks, and by then their work would be useless. And it was an eleven, almost twelve year old boy who thought of that. She needed to do some discreet inquiries with the Department of Mysteries through her Unspeakable contact. They might have a bit of information that she could work with.

For the time being however, she would need to shut down the Order of the Phoenix's research. She nodded slightly to the Potter Heir. "You have a sharp mind Harry, are you certain I can't get you as an Auror? Or a Hit-Wizard at least?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Business and Politics for me, I'm afraid." He wrinkled his nose slightly, but it had to be done. Someone had to become the Politician that could get equality. And he could, and would be the one to do it.

Amelia looked to the green eyed lad for a moment longer. "How did you escape from the Wards?" she asked. It was something that was bugging her since Sirius brought it up. The Wards should have had the young heir on lock-down.

Harry grimaced slightly and reached into his pocket. From it, he pulled a green marble and held it up. "This ugly thing." He said. It had been another creation he had worked on while he could.

He didn't sleep much and he never spent more than ten minutes eating. He had more time than he really knew what to do with, so he worked hard for the time he had been at Sirius' home. Even with a fifteen minute shower every day, he had still been looking upwards of eighteen hours a day of figuring things out.

Amelia took it and put her monocle in, immediately it began to register the runes carved very carefully into the marble as well as the sheer density of the magic surrounding it. She arched an eyebrow before looking to Harry. "Ugly?" she asked.

Harry inhaled slowly. In truth, he had escaped using Despair, but that would have been incriminating. So he had created something he could talk about easier. It wouldn't hold up to a thorough Legillimens attack or even hold up Veritaserum, but it was at least something physical that would keep people from questioning him so thoroughly.

"Runes are… advanced magic, and something like that wouldn't be beginning runes either." He started. "Essentially, it disrupts the wards surrounding a home. It doesn't break them, but more disables them. It's less brute force and more subtle manipulation.

"The downsides are it takes forever to carve the runes into that marble, the marble has to be conjured using my magic which was taxing." He didn't saturate himself more, but it had been taxing. "It's a one-time use only, because it'll break after being used, and it has to be within the wards it's disrupting. And you'll only get a thirty second window to escape."

To an experienced Rune Master, such a creation would have been quite ugly. It wasn't readily able to be mass produced, it took too much magic to create, it could only be used once, and it didn't last very long. Had he turned something in at NEWT level, he'd have received a Poor at best.

For a week with only studying Runes for a few days, it was quite the accomplishment.

Amelia looked to Harry. "What else?" she asked as though she already knew.

Harry's head bowed slightly and he shuffled his feet. No doubt she noticed it with her monocle and was giving him the chance to come clean. With a sigh, he looked up to her. "The Runes are sacrifice based and had to be powered. I used my blood to do it." He said, holding up his thumb to show the thin line that he had cut into it.

Amelia nodded and confiscated the marble, even if she couldn't stop him from creating more. "Sacrifice Magic, especially Blood Based, is illegal Harry. I'll let it slide, this one time, but if I catch you doing something like this again, I'm going to have to do something about it." She said.

She looked at the marble a little more. "I wish we had these against You-Know-Who though." She said softly.

"Riddle." Harry said in a tight tone. "His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle." He bit his tongue slightly. "And that was why I made them. His followers used Anti-Portkey, Anti-Apparation, and Anti-House-Elf wards. He had a mole in the Department of Magical Transportation that cut off the Floo network. A lot of good people died because they had no chance to escape and couldn't properly fight back." And it pissed Harry off.

Amelia nodded softly, holding the marble in her hand. "Harry, I won't force you to stay, but I would like it if you stayed until this weekend when I take Hannah and Susan shopping for their school supplies. I can get Lord Black to get your grades from Dumbledore when I speak to him later today. You're more than welcome to come with us." She said.

Harry thought about it before nodding softly. "I'll summon Millie to bring me some clothes and toiletries, and I'm sure Edmund would like to see his sister."

Amelia nodded and stepped around Harry to go get ready to head into work, letting the young Potter Heir sit with her niece and her niece's best friend. She had work to do.

-End Chapter-


	30. Book 2: Chapter 3

_Previously: The Order of the Phoenix has reared its head, for better or for worse. Harry, as the current Rider of the Pale Horse, knows they are dabbling in matters that ought not be dabbled in. When Sirius detains Harry inside of Number 12, Harry makes his escape refusing to be pinned down, even by an over protective godfather._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 3

Amelia Bones moved through the halls of the Ministry of Magic like a woman possessed. Auror Trainees scrambled to get out of her way, and even hardened veterans backed up against the wall, arms tucked to the small of their backs while she moved. She had a furious glower on her face.

The more she had thought on her conversation earlier with Harry, the angrier she had gotten. Why was is that it took an almost twelve year old boy to figure something out that learned adults should have figured out? She didn't know the answer to it, but she was going to make sure that Sirius Black got the point across to him.

Amelia didn't have to wait long after she got to her office. Her owl, Athena, had taken to the air quite swiftly to get to Sirius. It had taken her about an hour down in the Department of Mysteries to speak with an Unspeakable about finding out more, non-magically finding out more, about what had appeared at Hogwarts. They would at least know to be safe and not summon one of the creatures by accident.

And in waltzed Sirius Black. Amelia pinned him with a glare that he likely hadn't seen since she pinned her younger brother Edgar with a similar glare for wanting to sign a betrothal contract for Susan, regardless of the circumstances. "Sit." She barked with all the authority of a Senior Auror trainer.

Sirius sat.

Amelia poured herself some tea, brewing the Earl Grey particularly strong to help calm her nerves. She then sat down, sipping from the tea cup, giving Sirius a hard stare that made him fidget in his seat. "Now, Lord Black, I am in no position to tell you how to run your household. At the moment, you have done nothing wrong in keeping Harry within the wards of your home for his own safety." And that was the truth, Harry hadn't been abused and hadn't come to her regarding such. For his own safety, a Lord could detain their Heir.

It hadn't been done in years though.

"Who you invite into your home is your business, what business you hold inside your home is your business so long as it is not illegal. A vigilante group is illegal; however, I currently have no grounds to declare the Order of the Phoenix anything more than a book club, sitting about and talking about the latest authors." Amelia said sipping her tea some more.

Amelia then looked to Sirius, noticing the Black Lord fidgeting a bit. Moody would have tarred his hide for such fidgeting, but it had been a long time since Sirius was an Auror. "Harry Potter is currently at Bones Manor, at least until this weekend when I take Hannah and Susan shopping in Diagon Alley for their school needs."

Sirius slumped slightly, hanging his head in relief. It was obvious what news he had been hoping to hear. But she was going to have to rain on his parade. "Afterwards, I will not stop Mr. Potter from leaving to go where he wants. As far as I am concerned, home to him is not… wherever your home is Lord Black. Home is where Mr. Potter declares home. You are more than welcome to try and take him home with you this weekend, and yes that is an invitation to meet us at Diagon Alley."

Amelia pinned Sirius with a glare once more. "However, I must recommend against it, just like I recommend against pushing to take him home with you today." She said and watched Sirius straighten and open his mouth to speak. "You're going to shut your mouth Sirius Black and keep it shut until I'm done or we'll see how far I can push the charges of Child Neglect for your stunt with Peter Pettigrew."

She was pleased to see Sirius' jaw clench tight. "Mr. Potter was so adamant about getting away from your home, Lord Black, that he resorted to sacrificial blood magic." She snapped her hand out, throwing the marble at Sirius. "His own blood, mind you." She added.

While Amelia was upset with Sirius regarding Harry, she didn't want to alienate the pair either with Harry's use of such magic. "I've already taken to speaking with Mr. Potter regarding this, next time I will take legal action if it's brought up. And I will charge you as an accessory if it's you forcing him to that point."

Sirius looked over the marble, mind whirling no doubt. Amelia remembered that Sirius had taken NEWT level Ancient Runes. He could probably decipher the runes on the marble a lot quicker than Amelia could.

"Now, I want to go back to your book club Lord Black." She said, watching the man as he looked up from the marble. "You will cease any form of magical research regarding the creature that attacked Hogwarts. You live somewhere in the Downtown London vicinity, if you summon one of those things even by accident, we can kiss the Statute of Secrecy goodbye, and I will charge anyone left living with breaking it." She was savvy enough not to mention that Harry had thought of that particular problem.

"Any questions?" Amelia asked.

Sirius opened his mouth and closed it slowly, licking his lips for a moment. The man was clearly trying to piece together everything she had said. She had blitzed him with everything like that for a reason, she didn't want him to have time to come up with a retort.

Of course, a savvy politician would have still been able to come up with a retort, but she doubted Sirius became a master politician in the span of a few months out of Azkaban.

It was rather entertaining to the Head of the DMLE to see the former Marauder flounder a bit, his usual unshakable arrogance being rocked to the very foundations. She probably shouldn't be so pleased, but since Sirius had declined to return to his position as an Auror, understandable since he was the Head of the Black family, it was refreshing to see the man shaken.

"You think I'd alienate Harry from me more if I tried to take him home?" Sirius asked after a time, glancing down to the marble.

"Having helped raise two growing girls, especially since Hannah spent as much time at my home as Susan spent at hers, I can honestly say that you might very well do so. Mr. Potter wasn't in a good position before returning to the Magical World, he hasn't come right out and said so, but I can see it how he holds himself. He strives for excellence from himself without any room for error. To have his respect is a fragile thing. One wrong move, and that respect will shatter irreparably. He might give you a second chance, but you have to realize that every child has different needs." Amelia said.

She took a moment to refill her tea and drink some before continuing. "Susan is a very social girl, always outgoing and willing to help. But she has her moments where she needs to be alone, to break down and let her walls fall. She's very curious, but has a strong sense of what is right and wrong, partially instilled by me.

"Mr. Potter on the other hand, he's stoic and intelligent. Sharp, canny, and paranoid. He demands his space, and will take it if it is not given. He's like an impassable mountain, refusing to budge in the slightest. You go around or through, but he will offer you no slack. I don't think Mr. Potter has ever been told the meaning of the word impossible and I have no doubt Mr. Potter has dabbled in more sacrificial magic, likely using his own blood as the catalyst. But he holds information close to chest, and he is very private. And he has seen a person die, if the rumors that he can see a Thestral are to be believed. " Amelia said slowly, not sure if she should give up more information than necessary.

Sirius looked to the green marble in his hand. "Why don't you do more regarding the sacrificial magic?" he asked.

Amelia gave a derisive snort that was quite unladylike. "Because, despite the laws against it, Mr. Potter found the one Loophole. He's not killing anything to charge the sacrificial magic. His own wound is acting as the 'death' and I have no doubt he'd argue that angle until you believed he was doing a common occurrence." Amelia paused a moment and drank her tea some more. "Or worse, he'll pull a runner. As adaptive to the Muggle World as many of my Aurors are, Mr. Potter has not been removed from it long. I have no doubt that he'd find a way to disappear, and that's not something we can afford."

Sirius frowned a moment. "I don't follow. He's my Godson which makes him important to me, more than my own life, but why is his disappearance something we can't afford?"

Amelia shook her head. "Mr. Potter is a force of change, a powerful one that isn't afraid of the waves he's making. Using an earlier analogy, Mr. Potter is a great mountain. The waves will break against him long before he breaks. Dumbledore stepped down from the coveted Chief Warlock seat of the Wizengamot because of Mr. Potter. And whether you believe it or not, Dumbledore is right in that we need the Muggleborn, the fresh magical blood will help our society to grow once more."

"You want to turn Harry into some sort of spokesperson." Sirius accused Amelia.

Amelia turned a hard glare to Sirius. "I don't have to." She said. "He's already spoken of an interest in politics. He's going to be a spokesperson for someone's agenda, and he has the power to make someone listen. Just look at his wand, he's had to of had it tuned by Olivander for goodness' sake, and regardless of what many others say, the Wizengamot listens to those with power. There is a draw, a charismatic feel to those with power that makes one sit up and listen. And Mr. Potter has it in spades already. He will force people to listen, even if they don't want to."

**-**_**Scene break-**_

Susan walked through her home slowly and carefully. It wasn't that she was afraid of anything in the house, it was simply that the occupant that she was looking to witness was not someone she wanted to startle with her presence.

Slowly, she opened a door to the ballroom of her family's home.

"No." The sound of irritation made her smile before she cringed at the harsh notes from the piano. "No." Despite the player's usual confidence, Susan could easily tell that he was getting increasingly frustrated at the harsh and ugly sounds that the piano made. "No." he said slightly louder.

Susan stepped into the room and giggled just a little bit. "Well, it's nice to see you're not perfect at everything." She said as she tucked her hands at the small of her back. She wore a bright smile as she walked over to the only human male in her home at the moment.

Susan paused as Harry turned those vibrant green eyes to her. For a brief moment, she knew her cheeks were dusted with a red that matched her dark red hair. She felt like when her Aunt had caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. It was rather embarrassing and Susan found the yellow shirt she was wearing quite fascinating.

Susan heard a slight, but warm chuckle come from Harry and she glanced up to see him staring at the Piano. "It's not coming along as easily as I hoped." He admitted.

Susan stepped closer, moving around to stand behind Harry. She felt him tense, but even still, she leaned in and slid her hands over his. "You're playing too hard." She said, resting her chin just softly on his shoulder.

Susan then lightly pressed down on his finger, making him strike the key just softly and causing the Piano to give off a low but warm tone briefly. "Soft, it doesn't take much to get the Piano to play." She pressed down on a different finger, making a higher tone play.

She moved to his left and shooed him further down on the bench. She sat down with him, noticing the way his body relaxed a little bit. Susan blushed a little bit but smile anyways to Harry. "Now, most music is done in common time or four-four time. Four quarter notes in each measure." She said. "One, two, three, four." She said softly, counting off the beat. "One, two three four. Each beat can be at most a quarter note. Tap your foot as you count in your head." She said, beginning to tap her own right foot.

She smiled at how quickly Harry picked up on the beat. "Okay, now it's time to add some music." She said and glanced to his hands. She reached over to gently take his hands and moved each one to the required spots. He was at the lower end of the piano, so she didn't want him to play too heavy of notes.

"On one, use your left index finger to lightly tap the note there. But you're going to want to let go before two." Susan said, still smiling. "On three, use your right ring finger, but don't hold it for more than one beat." She said. "One, two, three four." She said, keeping the beat of the music.

Her smile threatened to split her face in two when she heard the notes being played. It was less harsh than before, and a simple two tones. "Now," she said. "Just continue that, but feel free to add you right index finger on two and your left pinky on four."

Susan then left him to it. She listened to the brief four note melody and soon began to play a bit of music of her own. She had been learning since she was five when her mother started to teach her, so it wasn't a simple melody like Harry's. Instead, she made it up as she went, playing with his simple melody to give it some depth and make it sound lovely.

After some time she heard Harry quit playing and she turned to look at him. She smiled a little more at his surprised and stunned look. "I started playing with my mum at five." She said proudly. "And I've just continued practicing and getting a few lessons from time to time." She said.

"You're amazing at it." Harry said, sounding quite honest. It just made her smile more.

Eventually Susan allowed her melody to fade off and she turned slightly to look at Harry. "I'd be more than happy to help you out more." She said with a smile.

Harry inclined his head. "I would appreciate it. I'm told that as a Scion to two Noble Houses it's expected of me to know how to play at least something." He said.

Susan shrugged her shoulders a little. "Some Houses do, some don't. I know Malfoy," At the name she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Doesn't have music lessons."

Harry arched an eyebrow at her. "You don't like Malfoy either? I get he's… well… I can't think of a polite enough word at the moment, but it seems like everyone doesn't like him in the slightest."

Susan sighed softly and shook her head. "He reminds me too much of his father, and I admit Auntie has clouded my judgment on that front. But, and I have no problem with other members of Slytherin House, Malfoy is a snake through and through, and can't be trusted."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "It's not necessarily a bad thing that he's a snake through and through, but you're probably right in that he can't be trusted." There was something in his tone that gave Susan pause.

"I don't follow." She said softly. She didn't have a Slytherin bone in her body, she was a Hufflepuff to the core of her being, and so she couldn't quite grasp what Harry was thinking.

"It's nothing." He said after a time, waving it off. "Just a stray thought that I likely won't ever have to deal with."

Edmund popped into the room then. "Young Mistress, Heir Potter, the Mistress has returned and is requesting the both of you to join her in the sitting room." The House-Elf said before popping out.

Susan smiled and stood up. "Well come on Harry, you heard Edmund, Auntie is back." She said and watched as Harry rose and began to move ahead of her with more confident strides.

Behind him, Susan couldn't help the blush from spreading on her face. She couldn't help but enjoy watching Harry move. There was a fluid grace to his movements that was quite impressive. An unbidden image of them dancing a waltz came to mind and her blush increased.

She shook the images away though. Harry didn't need a fan girl.

He needed someone that could walk beside him.

They arrived promptly at the sitting room and Susan let herself flop down onto the sofa, bringing her legs up beside her. "What's up Auntie?" she asked brightly.

Amelia passed Susan her book list first. Surprised, Susan opened the letter and pulled out the grade report that came with it. Susan smiled brightly to her Aunt. "I'm in the top ten percent." She said, passing over the grades.

Amelia gave a small tsking sound of admonishment. "An Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts Susan?" she asked a little teasing. "And what's this Acceptable in Herbology?" she asked, still teasing.

Susan blushed darkly and snatched the paper back. "That's no fair, I did well in everything else, even History of Magic." She said before sticking her tongue out at her aunt.

"Harry." Amelia said, passing over his envelope.

Susan watched as Harry flicked a knife out from the sheath strapped to his left arm. It was an impressive bit of skill that he worked with the knife, not only flicking it out of his sheath but spinning it along his fingers until he held it properly. He then carefully cut open the envelope.

His eyes flicked through the words on the parchment before a slow and steady smile spread over his face.

Susan couldn't help it, she was just a touch nosey when it came to things. "Well, how well did you do?" she asked, bouncing in her seat a little bit.

Harry passed the parchment over to her. "See for yourself." He said.

Susan took it and carefully read it out loud for her aunt as well. "_Dear Mr. Potter, it is with great pride that I offer my congratulations for taking the top spot for the first year of the Class of 1997." _Susan glanced through the grades, her eyes widening as she read each of them off.

In everything except Herbology, Harry had received an O+, passing his classes with _Honors_. Herbology, which was Harry's weakest subject, he still managed to get an O

Amelia took the parchment from Susan and whistled as she went through it. "Professor McGonagall usually handles sending out the grades and the book and equipment list. I believe Professor Dumbledore only sends out a personal letter to the top three spots." She said.

Susan looked to Harry who was nonchalantly looking through the book list with a frown. "Who is Gilderoy Lockhart?" he asked as he frowned more. "_Break with a Banshee? Gadding with Ghouls?" _Harry frowned even more. "Seven books for one class seems a touch extreme." He said

Harry personally could afford them seven times over quite easily. But people like the Weasley family, with four children at Hogwarts, no five now. He remembered Ron mentioning his sister Ginny. Seven books was undoubtedly difficult as it was, but Seven for one class per person?

Harry was going to have to have words with someone regarding this. It was ridiculous in the extreme.

_**-Scene Break-**_

Harry dressed himself a bit more impressively than what had been his standard the past few days. It was finally Saturday, when he would be going shopping with the Boneses and Abbots. He had still not forgiven Sirius, but he also knew the man had been invited to go shopping with them.

Harry checked himself briefly in the mirror before he nodded. He wore an ash color set of robes, with a dark blue dress shirt underneath and a pair of black slacks. The robes were cut once more for functionality, more like a duster than the long billowing ankle length most witches and wizards wore. It was expected of him to wear robes out and about, even if he didn't particularly like them

Harry checked for both wrist holsters. He would have to make a brief stop at Olivanders to get another tuning. With his new diet of eating a little more, Harry was getting to be extremely powerful, even if it was all unrefined still.

He grabbed the rolled up parchment that was sitting on his bed. He had gotten Millie to bring his school trunk over the day before and he made a meticulous inventory of anything he was running low on, be they brewing ingredients or writing supplies.

He headed down from his room and greeted everyone before taking his seat. He noted he was the first of the minors down from getting dressed and ready for their trip.

Amelia turned to regard Harry with her cup of tea. "I was talking with Cassandra about how we're going to go about today. We're trying to determine if we should split you children up."

Harry accepted a cup of tea with a bit of eggs and toast from Edmund. He fed Dust the toast carefully while he ate the eggs. While he didn't particularly like being called a child, it was something he would have to deal with in the future no doubt. "Well…" Harry started thinking while he added cream and sugar to his tea. "There are only three of us, so it would be best to keep us together for the most part. However, I have to run an errand into Olivander's, so that would likely be the best, and only, time for us to split up. The girls can run into Madam Malkin's while I speak with the wand maker."

"You won't be going into Madam Malkin's?" Cassandra asked. "She usually makes all the robes for Hogwarts children." She said

Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I know it is more costly, but I prefer the services of Madam Arachnae for my clothes, and I don't need a refitting yet." He heard Cassandra's intake of air, but ignored it. He knew the main reason why many did not go to his seamstress of choice, but after Kreacher introduced him to the woman, Harry found that she made better clothing that tended to last longer with better sizing enchantments than Madam Malkin's.

It was nothing against Madam Malkin after all, just that Harry found better.

Amelia nodded softly, not saying anything on Harry's choice of Seamstress. It was, after all, his choice.

Susan and Hannah came down shortly after chattering. Susan wore a black skirt with a yellow button up blouse. Her dark red hair was drawn up into a neat bun instead of the usual plait she wore it in, the jade hair sticks Harry had gifted her sticking up.

Hannah wore a pair of Mundane blue jeans with a white t-shirt, despite both being a pure blood, their families had obviously welcomed more Mundane clothing styles, even if Hogwarts had a dress code. Hannah's strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a braid over her left shoulder.

Amelia stood up. "Well then, let's get going then. Cassandra, you'll take the girls to Madam Malkin's. Harry, I'll be taking you to Olivanders, I'm sure he'll be done with your needs before the girls are done, we can all then go to Flourish and Blott's to get the books."

Harry nodded and stood up. He had spoken with Rotgut, his Potter Account Manager about withdrawing funds without heading into Gringotts. Rotgut had, in turn, sent Harry several draft forms that could be copied to Harry's liking. They worked like mundane checks.

It was a quick trip to the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry gave Tom the Barkeep two Galleons that he had left. Harry tried to always carry at least twenty galleons with him for things like the curteosy fee for using the Floo.

Harry drew up his aura before they entered the Alley. He noticed his companions shivered just slightly at the drop in temperature, but it made things easier when he began to stride through the crowd at the head of the group. He kept his pace slow enough that he wasn't going to cause the others to rush, but at the same time he wasn't going to be coddled and expected to wait.

Harry entered inside of Olivander's, noting that the shop was empty. To Harry, that was a pity more than anything. It told Harry, more than anything, that they needed change to occur or they would die. They were on a cusp. Olivander should have been busy fitting first years with new wands.

The old wand maker came from the back and frowned a moment as he took sight of Harry. He sighed softly. "Mr. Potter, I knew you would do great things, but I do believe this is… unprecedented." Olivander said as he took Harry's wand as Harry placed it on the counter.

Olivander made a few sounds with his mouth before he pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing slightly. "Mr. Potter, I can only do one more tuning to your wand before it will have to be destroyed and you will have to be fitted with a Staff, a scepter at the very least. None of which, I can help you with."

Harry noticed Amelia stiffen beside him, apparently it was something special. Harry would ask for both adults' discretion later. "What can we do?" he asked Olivander.

Olivander went to the back and came back with a silver bowl etched with more runes than Harry could guess at. He then took a silvery substance and poured it into the bowl, and Harry noticed it didn't flow like normal fluid.

"Simply put, Mr. Potter, I need you place your magic into this. It will tell me where to begin." Olivander offered.

Harry held his hand out over the bowl. It… worried him slightly. There was no telling how it would react. Even still, he focused his magic into the silvery fluid and stepped back as it reacted instantly.

The substance boiled a bit before rising up and freezing solid. Lines crossed through it before it began to fall apart, the bowl itself even sliced apart by fine blades, and then, surprisingly of all it erupted into flames while still being frozen.

"Oh my." Olivander said before he moved over with his own wand to quickly put the flames out.

Harry's mind whirled at the implication. If that had been a representation of the very nature of his magic…

Dust gave a shrill caw and Harry found himself agreeing with the crow.

That reaction should have been impossible for Harry.

As the Avatar of Death, Harry knew he would have ice. With the reunification with Despair at the end of the last year, his magic would take on the power of the wind which had split the frozen fluid apart so neatly. Those were to be expected.

But the fires… That should have been impossible. Harry's nature was as far away from fire as it possibly could. It should have taken decades of study into the Arts of Fire to invoke a reaction like that. And yet…

Harry couldn't take his gaze away from the smoldering chunks.

Olivander glanced up to Harry. 'I will need your wand for the next week, Mr. Potter. This process is not easy, nor short and I still have to fit the first years that come into my shop." Olivander said.

Harry didn't like that, however he looked to the older man's eyes and nodded his head. It had to be done.

Once outside, Amelia pulled Harry to a stop in front of an alley beside Olivander's shop. "What we heard in there stays secret." She said simply. "People don't need to know you might be getting a staff or scepter. While uncommon around the world, in Britain they are rare enough that one hasn't been seen in the past couple of centuries." She said

Harry glanced up to Amelia's eyes, staring into them unflinchingly. While he didn't like her trying to dictate what he told people or didn't tell people, he understood in this matter. "And what did we hear?" he asked, giving her a wink.

"Nothing, exactly nothing." Amelia said with a slight smirk to her lips, no doubt at how well Harry caught on.

They then headed off to meet up with the other girls.

Harry stood outside with Dust, respectfully not wanting to go inside. If he did, Madam Malkin would expect him to need some adjustments to his clothes, when he had found a different, and better, seamstress in his opinion. He didn't want to have to handle the expectations of someone that handled every Hogwarts student it seemed.

As a somewhat successful businessmen himself, despite his age, he knew what it was like to lose a customer to the competition. And given his reputation as the 'Boy-Who-Lived' such a thing could likely be misconstrued should someone get wind of it.

Better to just stay outside.

Eventually the others came out and they headed deeper into Diagon Alley where Flourish and Blott's was as busy as ever. Harry wanted to groan at the crowd inside. That is, until he saw the reason everyone was trying to get into Flourish and Blott's.

Gilderoy Lockhart doing a book signing all weekend long.

"Well…" Harry started before turning on his heel to leave.

Susan gave a small giggle and grabbed his arm. "Come on Harry." She said, turning him back around. "We'll just go in and get the books and then come back out." She said, but was quick to release his arm. She knew he didn't like to be touched.

Harry sighed and mustered the Gryffindor courage that the Sorting Hat had seen. At least he had the Hufflepuffs at his back and knew he wouldn't be left to his own devices. He walked in, drawing his aura up higher with every bump and shrill sound he heard. He maneuvered around the crowd, not wanting to deal with an author whose books Harry had to get.

He was reaching up to grab the book for Professor Flitwick's class when he heard something that made him want to cringe.

"Merlin's Beard… it can't be… Harry Potter!"

He turned just in time for a grubby looking man with a camera to grab his shoulder and yank him forward to the front of the crowd. Harry pushed his Aura up higher. He was shoved in front of the table where he was grabbed yet again, causing Harry to get pissed.

He briefly took in the form of Gilderoy Lockhart. Average height, average build, shiny blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and a firm jaw line. He wore lavender clothes underneath a set of midnight blue robes and he embraced Harry like he was a friend. "Nice big smile Harry, you and I together are worth the front page."

He pulled him closer where Harry caught a whiff of something and it triggered bad flashbacks for him, it reminded him of Vernon, of when his bully of an uncle had yanked him close when he was small.

Harry snarled and snapped. His left foot went in front of Lockhart's right foot and he pushed back. He ducked his head down, slipping Lockhart's arm over his head with both hands. Harry ensured Lockhart landed face first into the table.

He fought it, he tried to. But instinct took over at the memories. Panic rushed through his veins followed closely by more anger. Harry's hand pressed against the man's shoulder as he kept Lockhart's forearm in his right hand. Without a moment's of hesitation, Harry broke the arm, regardless of the consequences.

Dust's harsh caw, screams and cries and a bright flash brought Harry out of his instinct driven state. He glanced to Lockhart who was screaming loudest, with his arm bent at a wrong angle. He glanced up to the crowd who stared with wide eyes at him, backing up. He looked to the photographer who had captured the damage.

With a snarl Harry stepped back from Lockhart. "Don't you ever touch me!" he shouted before he stalked out, his Aura causing frost to form on the windows as he passed them, the crowd parting quickly from his way.

Harry didn't know where to go or what to do, so he found a quiet and dark alley to slip into and lean against the wall.

He didn't know what to do then.

-End Chapter-

**A/N: Sorry for the Delay y'all. I had hoped to have chapter four finished before I posted this, but it's been fighting me and it's been too damned long for me not to post this chapter.**

**I'm hoping to have chapter four out sometime this weekend, but I don't know how much work it will be.**


	31. Book 2: Chapter 4

_Last Time: Amelia rips Sirius a new one and Harry breaks the arm of Gilderoy Lockhart for being too grabby._

Book Two: Pestilence

Chapter 4

Harry was the first one out of the Floo after his breakdown at Flourish and Blott's. He made his way over to a wall and leaned against it slightly, his forearm bracing himself. He was no stranger to death or the way a bone snapped like that.

He had seen it, experienced it with his senses countless times while absorbing the memories of the Harvester and its previous wielders.

And yet… yet despite all of that it still left him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew there had been nothing he could have done; he had gone purely on instinct and anger. Yet he couldn't get the way the bone cracked out of his mind, the way it struggled against his grip for a moment before finally yielding and snapping.

It had been done in a matter of moments, but Harry could still feel that sensation as though it had been done in slow motion.

The Floo roared behind him, but he didn't turn to look at either the Abbots or the Boneses. He didn't want to see their look of disgust or fear on their faces. In truth, he didn't know how he was going to look himself in the mirror.

He knew as the Pale Rider, he would be bound to do much worse than just break an arm. Even still, he was only eleven still, twelve in a few days.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, gently and careful. "Harry," Amelia started softly. "What happened?" she asked. "I need to know in case Lockhart tries to press charges." She said.

Harry inhaled and then slowly let out his breath. He knew she was right, but he was going to hate admitting how weak he had been, how weak he still was. He slowly reached up and removed his glasses to pinch and rub the bridge of his nose, trying to get some relief from the headache threatening to build.

Finally he set his glasses back on and turned to face Amelia. Cassandra, Hannah and Susan all looked worried.

He looked to Amelia, trying to ignore the other three. Amelia at least looked more stoic or maybe sympathetic. "When I was younger, before Dust came to me, my relatives weren't the nicest people." Harry said a tic working in his jaw. "So much so, that I refuse to call them my family. Vernon, my uncle even if he's undeserving of such a title, was a bully plain and simple. He's a big man, wider than I am by a fair measure with big meaty hands."

Harry licked his lips and glanced away before looking back to Amelia, anger rippling through him again. "Vernon didn't lay a hand on me, he didn't want to risk a teacher seeing bruises, or seeing me walk with a limp from pain. But whenever I did something wrong, did something 'freakish' as he deemed it, he'd grab me by the back of my neck, or by my hair and drag me into this small boot cupboard. It was maybe four feet wide, five feet long and at its highest it was three and a half feet tall."

Harry clenched his jaw but decided to let it all out. "That was my room for as long as I could remember up until I met Dust at the age of eight. I went without food some times, and I was required to cook and do dishes for as long as I could hold the pots and pans. Whenever I messed something up, back into the Boot cupboard, being dragged by my neck, or by my ear, or by my hair.

"And, through it all, my cousin Dudley, their darling boy who could do no wrong, was the one that actually laid hands on me. Him and his friends. Rough housing was all it was called by Vernon to the authorities when a teacher witnessed it. All a big misunderstanding on the teacher's part.

"Then when Dust finally came to me, I learned the truth of things and it infuriated me, it twisted something inside of me towards them. I threatened them, bullied them, and I hate myself for doing it." Harry said, letting all of his weakness come forward. But he was angry, angry at the memories, angry at himself. "I did it enough to improve my situation and work out a deal with those people, but I don't forget the look of fear in their eyes as I make the entire house rattle with my untamed magic."

Harry reached up and touched Dust on the head and sighed. "I don't want to press charges against them, not Mundane charges, not magical charges. I just want them to leave me alone; I want to leave them alone. I want there to be nothing binding me towards them." Harry looked to Amelia again.

"You want to know what happened today? I hate being crowded, I hate being touched, and I despise being manhandled. Because of a pompous fool, I had all three today. Perhaps I could have handled it better, but Lockhart's cologne reminded me of Vernon's and it triggered memories of when I was small and helpless. All I felt was a tight hand around my shoulders and all I could smell was Vernon's cologne, and I snapped."

Harry shook his head. "I'm claustrophobic. I hate being in places where I can't spread my arms out to either side and spin around without hitting anything. I spend more time outside than in whenever I'm at Potter Manor or the cottage I got in Hogsmeade." Harry raised his hands up and as though to emphasize something but he soon just let them drop to his side.

"When Dust came to me, he had suppressed my emotions at my behest. I had a lot of rage towards my relatives, and it's been kept as firmly down as possible. But I outgrew such a block, and they can't be blocked again." A partial lie, but a necessary one. Harry wasn't sure how they would take if they learned his anger had broken the previous lock.

Amelia offered a sympathetic look and touched his shoulder softly. "Don't worry Harry; I'm pretty certain that we'll be able to keep Lockhart from pressing charges. We'll keep you out of the court room, and keep your secrets safe. But feel free to talk to me or Cassandra about anything that bothers you or even Madam Pomfrey when you're at Hogwarts. I'm not forcing you to open up everything, but just know we're there to help."

"So am I." Susan said from the side, with Hannah bobbing her head in agreement. The two Hufflepuffs were the loyal sort that wouldn't share anything without his permission.

Harry inclined his head softly. "Thank you. May I be excused? I need some time alone I think."

Amelia nodded softly and watched as Harry took his leave. She crossed her arms and a frown marred her features for a moment. Her foot began to tap as agitation began to fill her.

"Amelia, I know that look." Cassandra said from the side. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking Harry is similar to some of the Aurors I knew from after the War against You-Know-Who. Paranoid, jumpy, and closed up. Worse, I don't know if he'd accept any help. Trying to force him to go to therapy with a Mind Healer might cause him to lock up even more and be stubborn about it. And if you tried to help him through more forceful tactics, he'll fight. I have no doubt that even drugged and dazed, Harry would fight and his familiar would defend him." Amelia clicked her tongue slightly in minor irritation. "I could strangle the old fool with his beard."

Cassandra shook her head. It was not the first time that Amelia had grievances against what Dumbledore had done in the past, and everyone knew Dumbledore had sequestered the young Potter Heir away, citing Harry's safety. "We'll just have to be there for Harry; eventually he'll open up, just a little bit. And I'm certain the girls will help." She said, glancing to the two young girls that were talking with one another quite animatedly.

Amelia nodded. "There's going to be some major political fallout from this." She said

**-**_**Scene Break-**_

As Amelia had predicted, there was political fallout in the form of the Daily Prophet in less than two days. Yet no one could have guessed the Prophet's target at the time of the incident. And in the end, everyone blamed the incident not on Harry Potter or Gilderoy Lockhart.

Instead, the blame was shifted onto Albus Dumbledore.

Harry regarded the political move by Lucius Malfoy who gave a quote regarding the incident to Rita Skeeter. Lucius reminded, politely so, that Albus Dumbledore had denied any, and all, magical families to take Harry in after the fall of Voldemort. Harry's safety had been cited by Dumbledore at the time, and it was this, living with Harry's Mundane relatives, that Lucius blamed Harry's mental state on.

It was a shrewd maneuver. And Harry was surprised by it. Whether anyone wanted to admit it or not, Dumbledore was politics of the past. The man had once been a political powerhouse, but less than a year had passed since the man stepped down from his political posts.

And Malfoy Senior had to know this.

It boggled Harry's mind as he racked it to try and figure out why Lucius was attacking Dumbledore's reputation in lieu of attacking Harry's. Harry was the politics of the future, and no doubt Harry made an enemy at the Christmas Ball with the Ministry when he reminded Lucius of his place.

So there had to be something coming up, something attached to Dumbledore in some way, that Lucius was trying to make sure did not come to fruition.

Harry would look into that more later however. He had a more pressing dilemma than the political machinations of Lucius Malfoy in regards to Dumbledore. Harry looked to the picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet as he snapped Lockhart's arm like a twig in full detail and motion.

Skeeter herself questioned Harry's state of mind, and if it was a good idea for such an individual to not be checked into Saint Mungo's. He needed to… control the flow of questions regarding him. Too many probes, and he might be carted off to Saint Mungo's where someone might probe a little too deeply.

Harry did not wish for the Potter name to die with him because someone found out that he was Death.

But rushing off and demanding things of the Prophet, even using what Stock he owned to bend them to his demands, would cause others to start questioning more. The majority of people seemed like sheep to believe what the Prophet said, but even he knew that wasn't the case.

And he could hurt his political reputation more than he wanted it to be hurt. He needed to make powerful alliances that could sway things the way he needed to. He needed to cut the cancerous thoughts of Mundane Born being lesser out of everyone.

They needed more Witches and Wizards.

If everyone thought he was a deranged nutter, then he wasn't going to make any progress with making alliances. If he tried to strong arm the Daily Prophet, no doubt they would print something about it.

Standing, Harry moved over to his fireplace and rolled up the newspaper. He felt Dust settle on his shoulder. Harry stepped through after throwing some Floo Powder through and he moved through the Leaky Cauldron, drawing up his Aura.

He used his wind magic from Despair to blow the ash and soot from his shoulders as he walked towards Gringotts. He needed to speak with his Account Managers regarding this. His businesses hinged on his Reputation. If everyone started going elsewhere for business because of the Prophet, then he needed to speak with the Goblins who helped his finances.

As it turned out however, his Account Managers were unable to really offer any help in the matter. They could help with the business side of things, yes, but they were not the end all be all. For backroom politics that Harry had to wade through, they could not help in the slightest.

Harry decided to go with Dust's recommendation after finding out that the Goblins could not offer any advice in the matter. Harry decided to adopt a 'wait and see' policy. It was all he could really do.

_**-Scene Break-**_

Harry made his way towards the Floo with Dust sitting upon his shoulder. He wore a pair of black slacks with a white short sleeve button down shirt. A black set of robes hung over his shoulders. He tossed the powder into the flames, causing them to spark green.

"The Burrow, Devon!" he enunciated. It had been a week since his melt down, and he decided that he still needed to do something for Ron since his original plan was, temporarily, foiled.

Hard to take the redhead to a chess tournament that ended up passing because of meddling fools.

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace just slightly. He had used a touch too much Floo Powder and had ended up going faster than he was used to. He managed to catch himself however before falling and he began to look around. He focused on his center at the same time, trying desperately to get himself focused on his logical once more. The Weasley family was a rather raucous bunch, and he didn't want to end up hurting someone because of his emotions being unbound.

"Harry, it's so good to see you dear." Harry turned and stepped back one large step at the plump redhead woman coming up on him, no doubt to give him a hug. He had been warned of her hugs.

Harry held up both hands. "I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley; I don't particularly like being hugged." He said simply. "Is Ron awake?" he asked. He realized it was eight in the morning, but most people tended to sleep in if they could, and students during summer break usually could.

"Not yet I'm afraid, would you like a bite to eat? Or some tea?" Molly Weasley didn't seem phased in the slightest to Harry's not wanting to be hugged. For a mother of seven children, it was easy to take eccentricities in stride.

Harry was also thankful she wasn't trying to chastise him for the fiasco at Number 12. Harry hadn't returned in the two weeks it's been since his escape. He had not forgiven Sirius for his actions. "No, thank you for the offer. I've already eaten and a Healer has me on a strict diet." Not a complete truth, but not a lie either.

Molly nodded and went back to the kitchen to busy herself with preparing food for six mouths to feed. "Ron's room is up the stairs, on the top floor if you feel like waking him up dear."

Harry strode over towards the stairs and began to ascend. Despite not having his Invisibility Cloak, Harry still walked quietly up the stairs, not a creak sounding from the old wood. A loud boom sounded out as Harry approached the second floor and he glanced to a room where twin coughing was heard and smoke came from under the door.

Shaking his head at the Twins' experiments, he continued his path up the stairs. He came to Ron's door, the only door on the top floor aside from the hatch that led up to the attic. He debated the best way to go about it.

A few Twin-esque ideas came to mind, but Harry dismissed them and casually opened the door, strolling in. He strode over to Ron's bed and grasped his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "Ron, wake up." He said in a firm voice.

"Five more minutes." Ron mumbled in his sleep, curling away from the hand to burrow into his blankets.

Harry frowned a moment. Now that wouldn't do at all. He stepped back. He was tempted to start throwing small blocks of ice at Ron. Instead, Harry squatted and grasped the underside of the bed. With a slight grunt, he flipped the bed. Ron thumped loudly as he hit the hardwood. "Your mother is making breakfast Ron; we have a busy day today. So get dressed and ready to leave as soon as you're done eating." He turned and headed back down the stairs, ignoring Ron's grumblings.

He pointedly also ignored Percy and the Twins' surprised looks as Harry stalked down the stairs from Ron's room. Harry had sent Ashes a few days ago with his letter saying he was arriving. Whether Ron shared that with his siblings or not was Ron's business. But Harry had also sent one to Molly and Arthur, just in case Ron forgot to tell them.

It wouldn't do to show up unannounced.

He didn't even pause as he heard a small squeak come from the bedroom on the first floor while he continued to make his way to the ground floor.

Harry entered the kitchen and gave a pleasant smile. "Ron will be down shortly and I think I will accept your gracious offer for a cup of tea Mrs. Weasley."

And when Ron came down about ten minutes later, Harry was working on a second cup of the strong tea. He already glanced through the Daily Prophet, looking for the less sensational information.

"Morning Mum." Ron groggily said as he sat down across from Harry. "You're evil Harry." He said.

Harry shrugged his shoulders slightly. "You should have gotten up when I first attempted to wake you up."

Molly set a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast before Ron with a goblet of pumpkin juice. At the smell of the juice, Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste at the foul concoction before he lifted his tea to drink it more.

"So where are we going Harry?" Ron asked after taking a drink.

"We need to get you some proper, formal dress robes for next year's chess tournament Ron. It's too late for this year, but that is a minor setback." Harry said simply. "For that, you and I will be heading into Diagon Alley today."

"And who's the adult that will be going with you?" Molly's voice sounded to Harry's left.

"Ron and I will be fine on our own Mrs. Weasley, I promise." Harry said. "Diagon Alley is a rather closely watched area; I doubt there will be trouble."

The twins entered at the point and Molly set food before the both of them. "And where is this Chess tournament going to be held? And who will be chaperoning you two to that event?"

"Switzerland is where it's going to be held next year. As for who will be accompanying us, Professor Flitwick has volunteered, on the condition that I accompany him and enter the Dueling Tournament held in Hong Kong a week after the Chess Tournament will be over."

Harry then directed his gaze towards Ron once more. "We'll be proceeding to Switzerland next year via Mundane Transportation, so we'll have to get you clothes to blend in as well."

"Absolutely not!" Molly said suddenly and quite loudly. "Going to Diagon Alley is one thing, but I will not let my son go to another country, even with a Professor of Hogwarts in some Muggle contraption! He could die!"

"But Mum-." Ron said, trying to reason with his mother.

"No Ronald Weasley!" Molly said sharply with a hard glare at her son.

A slight chuckle escaped from Harry's lips and those hard eyes suddenly turned to look at the dark haired boy. Harry bore into her brown eyes with his green ones which had lost all warmth. He could tell in the way she shuddered. "For all my intellect, all my planning, all my studies, I forgot to plan for one thing that is foreign to me and fascinating to see up close."

Harry rubbed his chin a little bit. "Fascinating indeed. A mother's love is clearly not a force to be trifled with. However, it is unacceptable and disgraceful for you to hold your son back like this." His words were like a slap to Molly's face as he witnessed her recoil. "Ron is quite gifted at chess, and this is a chance for that gift, that talent to be shown and recognized. You should be the first person to be supportive of this. It costs you, and Ron, nothing. Not a single Knut.

"I do not claim to understand or even begin to fathom what is going through your mind or the emotions rolling through you. I will not however stand for anyone that wants to hold someone else back from even trying to reach the potential they are capable of." Harry rose to his feet at this point, knowing his own emotions were rolling inside of him.

He remembered being held back at the Dursley's. He remembered the degradation when he did better than Dudley. He should have been encouraged to push himself to his absolute heights.

"I would never hold any of my sons back; I want what is right for all of my children." Molly tried to defend herself and her actions.

Harry looked at her with those cold eyes. "From where I'm standing, I don't see that Mrs. Weasley."

Just then the kitchen door to the outside swung open. "What a night! Another nine raids!" Harry's eyes drifted to the form of Arthur Weasley as he came in, holding a bundle of rolled up parchments. "Someone even tried to call in a tip regarding Alastor's home. Ha!"

Molly glanced to her husband as well. "How is Alastor dear?" she asked, not wanting the tension show, even if Ron and the Twins had already seen it.

Arthur set his things down and managed to finally take in the room. "Alastor is doing good, still paranoid about people being in his home but Kingsley and I managed to sort it out." Arthur kissed Molly on the cheek and then turned to face Harry properly. The balding redheaded man beamed a bright smile. "Harry Potter, Ron and the Twins have written much about you." He held out a hand.

Harry shook the man's hand firmly. "Mr. Weasley." He greeted. "I apologize, but I won't be staying much longer. I believe I have overstepped myself." Harry turned away, heading across towards the living room.

"Harry, wait!" Ron said, getting up from his half eaten plate of food.

Harry placed a single galleon on the mantle beside the pot of Floo Powder. Having given a galleon to Tom so many times to use the Floo, it was almost second nature at this point.

"Ron." Molly said softly from the kitchen. A look of indecisiveness played on her features a moment. "Go. Go get your dress robes Ron. But you better bring those Acceptables up Ronald, or you won't be going next year."

"Yes Ma'am!" Ron said as he joined Harry by the grate.

Harry took a pinch and threw it into the fire. A quick slide and a hop later and he was in the Leaky Cauldron. Ron came shooting out after him but Harry hauled the redhead to his feet. "Less Floo Powder next time Ron, the more you use the faster you go." He said to his friend.

Harry passed by Tom the Barkeep with a wave before he went through the brick wall. Ron hurried to keep up as they moved through the Alley. "Hey mate, can I ask you something?" Ron asked as he followed closely behind Harry as the people seemed to part away from Harry.

"Go ahead."

"What's with the way you talk?" Ron asked. "Sometimes you sound like a normal person our age, others you sound like you should be talking to Dumbledore or something."

Harry paused and turned to the redhead with a bewildered look. "Really? That's what you want to ask about? Not why people are moving around me like I'm a rock in the ocean or how my robes got free of ashes?"

Even Dust cawed at the question.

"Well feel free to answer those also." Ron said with a shrug.

Harry sighed, reminding himself that Ron was gifted in chess, not necessarily which questions to ask when. "Growing up I didn't have many friends, so I wasn't able to have a changing vocabulary with them. When Dust came to me, he's capable of remembering everything we've read, even if it takes him a time to bring up the memories. Books were often my escape, and the more I read the more my vocabulary grew. Unfortunately, I didn't have friends to know that some of my vocabulary isn't exactly at my age level.

"I've been working on it, when I'm around the people my age; I try to use age appropriate vocabulary. When I get upset though, it changes to the more refined and more intellectual words. I doubt anyone in our age group could keep up with me when I'm particularly upset. Maybe Hermione, but I doubt anyone else past her." Harry kept walking casually into Knockturn Alley, pausing when he no longer felt Ron behind him. "What?"

"That's Knockturn Alley, what are we doing going in there?" Ron asked, staying up towards the streets.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on Ron. Nothing bad will happen, just stick close and try not to draw too much attention to yourself. It's not like we're going to Borgin and Burke's."

Ron carefully began to take the steps down, a slight look of hesitation on his face. Harry shook his head a bit but continued to walk in, striding proudly.

He had his knife with him, and he could still form lances of ice. He was well protected.

Ron was quick to catch up, realizing that Harry would leave him behind. However, upon seeing their destination, Ron felt his blood turn to ice and his feet turn to lead. He stared at the large glass panes with no small sense of dread. "Harry," he croaked out.

Harry had his hand on the door knob to Madam Arachnae's Tailoring. "What is it now Ron?" Harry asked, turning to face the redhead who was literally shaking.

"I don't like spiders." Ron croaked out fearfully.

The Windows of the shop were coated with thick spider webs that blotted out the view to the store. Large black spiders could be seen moving about the webs; even the occasional black widow spider was seen.

Harry blinked, glancing from Ron to the windows that Ron was staring at. "Arachnophobia, really?" He knew not to make fun of it, but it was just so surprising. Harry rubbed his face, running his tongue over his teeth. "Are you a Gryffindor or not Ron? In." Harry jerked his head towards the door.

"Being a Gryffindor is about being brave, not stupid." Ron argued.

"And Bravery isn't about being fearless but acknowledging your fears and doing them anyways so they don't control you." Harry countered.

Ron whimpered again and took a shaky step forward. "Why here? Wouldn't Madam Malkin's work?"

"Ron, Madam Arachnae is the best in Britain, period, hands down, and end of story. She might be the best in all of Europe. So muster your courage, and get over here." Harry said. He was trying to be patient with Ron's arachnophobia, his own claustrophobia coming to mind, but it was difficult when Ron didn't even seem willing to face his demons down.

Ron whimpered before he managed to force himself to move. He went in first, pushing the door open to the dimly lit shop. Thick webbing moved about the entire shop. The main floor was the only place that wasn't covered in the cobwebs. Harry walked in behind him, moving Ron carefully through the shop. "Careful of the spiders Ron, you don't want to accidently trample on them."

"Why?" Ron squeaked out.

"That would be because of me." A cool, articulated female voice resonated from the darkness of the upper floor of the shop. Ron looked to the stairs as slow clicking was heard as the speaker descended. Ron gave another whimper, barely holding himself together.

Harry, who had already seen Madam Arachnae, was not as surprised.

Madam Arachnae was without a doubt the strangest thing someone like Ron would have seen up to that point in his life. Her torso was that of a shapely and beautiful woman right down to the waist where it changed drastically. Her lower half was a bloated form of chiton and eight spindly legs that moved in tandem. Madam Arachnae was a Drider.

She wore a tight leather corset that showed ample amounts of her darkly colored skin. Her humanoid arms had black velvet gloves that stretched up to her biceps. Snow white hair was drawn into a sophisticated bun with two long bangs framing her face. Violet eyes peered at the two visitors and her ruby red lips curled into a slight smile showing fangs inside of her mouth.

"Harry, what is she?" Ron squeaked out, shuddering.

"Heir Potter, a pleasure to do business with you again." She held out one of her hands to Harry.

Harry accepted the gloved hand and laid a kiss along the back of her knuckles. "Madam Arachnae, the pleasure will be my friend's, I'm certain." Harry turned to Ron. "Ron, Madam Arachnae, my tailor. Madam Arachnae, Ronald Weasley, one of my friends and my sponsored for the Chess Tournament in Switzerland next year."

"Charmed Mr. Weasley." Arachnae said.

"Madam Arachnae is a Drider, Ron, a Drow that has lost favor and has been punished by their Matron Goddess Loth. Spiders are the symbol of Lolth and as such are regarded as Sacred. A Drider such as Madam Arachnae however has repented and paid for her crimes against her Goddess, thus she has been granted the ability to reason, speak, and think once more. When I said earlier that Madam Arachnae is the best Tailor in Britain, it was no exaggeration. She has had _centuries_ of practice." Harry explained, having remembered the details of the last time he had been in Arachnae's shop. "She is also one of the few that can weave Unicorn hair into a proper garment. Most Witches and Wizards chose not to do business with her given her… well… race." He tried to be polite about it.

"Indeed. Elves are generally looked down upon Witches and Wizards because of the status of House Elves. Drow, or Under Dark Elves, are especially looked down upon." Arachnae chimed in.

"However, the magic she mixes into her tailoring and the quality of her threads are second to none and well worth the price." Harry said confidently.

"Oh please Heir Potter, you will make this old woman blush with such praise." Arachnae said, cupping her cheeks. She began to circle around the pair slowly, appraising Ron. "Yes, you young man have potential. Mm…" She stopped in front of them and cupped Ron's cheeks, forcing him to look up at her. "You will not be harmed in my shop Mr. Weasley. We shall get you a stunning set of robes, maybe edged in a bit of crimson or gold… Mm…" She moved to get the tape measure so she could begin.

"Ron, look at me." Harry said, getting the scared Weasley to focus on him. "Relax. I have an errand to run, but I will return in ten minutes tops. Do as she says, you're safe in here. Understand?"

Ron nodded, barely getting a yes out. Harry supposed he should be thankful that Ron was holding up well enough that he hadn't soiled himself.

Harry quickly left the shop. He had to get his wand back.

-**End Chapter-**

**A/N: So this chapter was an absolute bitch to finish. I know I've been focusing on a few that I said wouldn't be focused as much in this story, but next chapter we see Harry heading off to Hogwarts and him meeting… well… someone mentioned earlier in the story that's not a Horsemen.**

**HBW, logging off.**


	32. Book 2: Chapter 5

_Last Time: Harry opens up about his past to Amelia Bones and Harry takes Ron to see Madam Arachnae, a Drider seamstress, to get Ron dress robes for a Chess Tournament._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 5

Harry strapped his wand to his right forearm and his knife to his left forearm. He had a meeting to go to with the Goblins, High King Ragnarokk sending for him and telling him to arrive with Despair as well. So Harry strapped the Dominion Gauntlet to his left hand as well and donned his Invisibility Cloak.

He made his way out to Despair and mounted the Thestral. He double checked the note that was sent to him by one of the High King's men. "The Forge, Gringotts London Branch." Harry told his steed.

Despair took off and quickly flashed them into a hot, cramped underground chamber. Loud banging could be heard over and over again as Goblins worked at the forges crafting tools, weapons, and armor. Sometimes, the weapons were broken then melted down again. The Goblins were efficient Forgers.

Harry pushed the hood of his cloak back, and pulsed his magic through it to make it visible. He then dismounted from Despair, lightly touching his steed's neck. Despair didn't like the cramped space of the forge any more than Harry did. "Easy, easy." He told Despair softly, knowing the Thestral was almost ready to bolt.

"So this is the famed white steed?" Harry turned to see High King Ragnarokk approaching with a contingent of guards.

"Yes." Harry said, still a little focused on Despair. He did not question the High King's ability to see Despair. There was no telling how many deaths the Goblin Ruler had seen.

"Will it be alright?" High King Ragnarokk asked, not particularly sounding worried about Despair.

"He will be." Harry said finally calming Despair down. "Despair has a close affinity with the wind. He wishes to run free and spread his wings; cramped caverns are difficult on him." Like they were on Harry.

"I see. Pale Rider, Master Forger Giblet." The High King said, motioning to a member of his entourage that wasn't a Guard.

Master Forger Giblet was an older Goblin. He was missing two of his long gnarled fingers on his left hand. He wore a pair of goggles on his head as he regarded Harry with sharp red eyes that were tinged with jaundice. He wore a lead apron and thick leather gloves. His head was completely bald and he was without a doubt the strongest looking Goblin Harry had ever seen with thick and muscular arms. He also chomped on a wooden pipe, occasionally blowing out thick rings of a black smoke.

Harry inclined his head to Giblet. "Master Forger." He said politely.

The goblin moved forward and lifted Harry's hand with the Dominion Gauntlet. "Is this what the armor has to match?" he asked around his pipe. He took it out and tapped the base of the bowl against the metal, loosening up the burning herbs inside of it before he put the pipe back in his mouth.

"It is." Harry said, glancing to the Gauntlet. "As of now, it's the only piece of armor I have."

A few more inhaled on the pipe and the Master Forger spat out a curse that Harry wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the meaning to. He understood the words, but the connotation behind them was lost, and hopefully would remain lost. "It's Mithril My Lord."

High King Ragnarokk made a sound in his mouth of displeasure.

Harry cleared his throat carefully. "I apologize if I seem ignorant, but is this going to be a problem?" He realized that his boon from the High King could be null and void if he asked for something outside their abilities.

The Master Forger tapped the bowl against the gauntlet again. "That's Dwarf made. Mithril is only available to Dwarves. You might come across full pieces of weapons or armor, but never raw metal. And if you smelt the pieces down into metal form again, it stops being Mithril. The art of forging Mithril is known only to the Dwarves. We Goblins know the components of Mithril; titanium, platinum, silver, and unicorn blood. But to actually forge Mithril, it's a different matter entirely. If you expect a suit of Mithril Armor, you'd need to go to the Dwarves." And the Master Forger did not sound entirely happy about the prospect.

Harry realized that he treaded on thin ice there. The animosity between Goblins and Dwarves was well documented through history. It was the reason why there were no Dwarves in Britain and no Goblins in Germany where the Dwarves made their home.

"What can you offer me Master Forger?" Harry asked the smoking goblin. That would perhaps be his best bet to find out if he did in fact need to make a visit to Germany.

Giblet was silent for a while, smoking his pipe while he thought. He regarded Harry's build for a while before he took the pipe from his mouth and exhaled deeply. "I have one metal in mind Pale Rider. It's harder than Mithril and damned near impossible to break. It's dense so it's heavy. But an inch thickness can stand up to the tail spike of a Hungarian Horn-tail in full rampage. But it won't be a quick job; it won't be an easy job. I know this to be a Boon from the High King, but this metal will require a team of my best forgers to dedicate themselves for almost the next two years.

"I can have a full suit of it ready for you by middle of April. It will take another year for your steed. The problem with Adamantine is that it needs to remain hot. You can't enchant the metal over an open flame, so it gets removed from its heat source for the duration of its enchanting. Adamantine can cool down and harden up in less than three hours. It will take our enchanters two and a half hours to enchant the metal each time. And every month you will need to return and pour your magic into the liquid state of the metal so it's responsive to your magic Pale Rider and will grow with you."

High King Ragnarokk looked between his Forger and the Pale Rider. "Walk with me." He said, motioning to Harry and starting to walk. "Privately." He told his guards.

Harry walked with the High King some ways away, Giblet and the Guards no longer being within eyesight or earshot. "Harry," The Goblin Ruler began, turning to regard the Potter Heir once more. "I said I would grant the Boon, and I won't back out of that. You will only have to pay for the cost of materials for the Armor for both you and Despair. But understand that you are taking away from their duties a dozen smiths and a dozen enchanters. I cannot just simply do this without something else to balance the scales. I am grateful for your help in regards to that Vile Horcrux in the LeStrange Vault. But I would like another favor before I tell my people to begin this job."

Harry inclined his head. "I cannot promise that I can help, but if I can I will." He needed the armor for both him and Despair. Even if it could only stand up to one blow from one of the Creatures from Beyond the Veil of Death, it would be much better than going into battle in nothing but cloth.

The High King mused for a moment. "I am aware of your people's sport, Quidditch I believe, having a championship here in Britain in about two years. My people care nothing for the Sport; however there will be thousands of Witches and Wizards there, some from foreign nations who have never seen a Goblin ware in their life.

"Goblins are unable to sell our wares outside of Gringotts due to laws made by your Ministry. There are many Forgers, from Apprentice to Master that would make quite a bit of gold if they were able to sell their goods. Some pieces have been collecting dust on shelves for centuries. If you can get these laws repealed, let the Goblins of the Goblin nation sell their wares at this event, and then I will consider our arrangement washed."

Harry thought on what the High King wanted, and from a business stand point, the Goblin Ruler had a point. High King Ragnarokk wanted what was best for his nation and what was best was everyone having a fat coin purse. "The Ministry will wish to place taxes on your profits, and Wizards will not think they are renting the pieces but have actual ownership. So when they die, they will pass it along to someone in their will."

"The taxes we can deal with as long as they are fair and reasonable. I believe ten percent to be such, but I am willing to go up to fifteen. The Goblin Nation will be having their own taxes on the profits of the Goblins after all. The rest of the profits will go to the Goblin who forged the piece or their family." High King Ragnarokk reasoned. Taxes were not a problem after all.

"As for the Right of Ownership… The Pieces made by a Master Forger will not be parted with so easily, and they will have a price tag to match. But, I believe we can… waive the Right of Ownership as well. But only on items without enchantment." It actually looked painful for the High King to say that. "And I will let my forgers know as soon as you tell me we can sell our wares so that we will have plenty of objects to sell."

"If I may, High King Ragnarokk, why? Why now?" Harry asked the Goblin.

"The ultimate goal, Harry, is equality for the Goblin Nation. We wish to be treated as the equals of you Witches and Wizards. We have tried rebellion, after rebellion in the past. We have tried diplomacy even, but were mostly ignored. But you, you on the other hand… You offer a revenue to the inside. You have my respect Harry, something no other human can say." The High King then began to walk away.

"Why do I have your respect?" Harry asked. It was something that bugged him that the Goblins gave him such respect, he didn't do anything special. Even respecting them wasn't that big of a thing.

The High King paused and turned to regard Harry. Ragnarokk then spoke. "It is because you bring great wealth to the Bank. You are a shrewd businessman, cunning, intelligent, and bold with balls made of diamonds to not bow to me. But you stick to your principals. You are Death, an indomitable force that even we Goblins cannot conquer, so you will bow to no one. You listen to your Goblin Account Managers, but you don't rely on them. When you were told we could not help with the article, you simply accepted it and went about your business. Most would have thrown a tantrum that we could not help. You have my respect, Harry, because you have earned it. You are a merchant, a warrior, a philosopher, and a politician all mixed into one."

The High King then left, leaving Harry to stand there and reflect on the Goblin's words.

-_**Scene Break -**_

September the First came all too quickly for Harry. He did not feel as though he had accomplished enough during the summer as he allowed his body to recover from surgery and getting back into a semblance of shape once he was recovered enough. He used the woods surrounding Potter Manor in order to practice his running.

Dumbledore had sent another letter to Harry personally, requesting him to ride the train with his fellow students. Harry had thrown that letter into the fire and disregarded the request. Harry was still upset with the things Dumbledore had done. Even if he now knew the older wizard was no great master manipulator, Harry was still upset regarding the stint with the Order of the Phoenix.

However, a few days before the first, Flitwick sent Harry a similar letter. Flitwick requested Harry to ride the train so that he might get a good idea of who might be joining Ravenclaw House so that he might help them during the school year. Also, he requested that Harry go through the mundane entrance to help any Mundane born students. Harry knew Flitwick sent the letter at Dumbledore's request, but it was still impossible to properly decline the request. Flitwick applied logic to his letter knowing that Harry would help the first years.

So on the First, Harry arrived at King's Cross and moved towards the barrier. He kept his eyes peeled for any young child that was unsure if things would be real or not. Five minutes before eleven, Harry pressed his back towards the barrier, looking to step back through.

He pressed firmly to the brick wall.

Harry frowned deeply before he stepped away and glanced around, making sure he was at the right spot. He even went around to the other side of the column, thinking perhaps that he was on the wrong side.

Something was not right.

Harry glanced to the clock just as a loud whistle blew, announcing it to be Eleven. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't too far away, but he told Flitwick that he would be on the train. Harry worried his lower lip between his teeth. Flitwick would probably understand.

But at the same time, Harry felt as though he needed to be on the train for some reason, like something was pulling him towards it.

Harry dragged his trolley a ways away, out of sight. He flicked his wand out and tapped the runes on the Eagle lock on his trunk, making it shrink. He picked up the matchbook sized trunk and stowed it away in the pocket of his jeans.

He pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket, the thin material able to fold up to an incredible level. He threw it on over his shoulder and drew the hood up. He pulsed his magic to disappear. "Dust." He told his crow, watching it fly off, knowing what Harry had planned.

"Despair." Harry whispered. His steed came to him and Harry quickly mounted the large Thestral. "We have a train to catch."

Despair took off at a hard run; the powers of his steed rendered it invisible to mundane eyes, even if they had seen Death. It galloped hard across the concrete. Aiming straight for the barrier, Despair didn't even stop running as it burst through, the magical mount's method of travelling allowing it to bypass the ward placed around the barrier.

Despair could have probably dropped Harry off right on top of the train, but Harry had found that Despair liked to show off.

The proud and powerful Thestral ran along the tracks for the Hogwarts express at full tilt, his body bouncing Harry up and down with each and every powerful stride. When it cleared the tunnel, Despair flung his wings out galloping across the sky. Green flames erupted from every step as the Pale Steed moved after the train.

In ten minutes, Despair was still running full tilt and gaining upon the train that chugged towards the country side. It began to descend running along the tracks once more. Harry slowly rose to his feet upon Despair's back. He kept his knees bent and his hands out to either side for balance as he anticipated the jump.

Despair slowed up slightly as they reached the caboose of the train. Despair attempted to match its speed, but his steed was the wind itself. It could not quite perfectly control the speed, either going too fast or too slow. Harry had Despair slow up once more, letting the train gain some distance.

Despair then surged forward, looking to overtake the train. Just as they were passing the rails towards the caboose of the train, Harry leapt from his steed and over the rails. He landed in a slight roll and caught himself on the bronze rails.

He turned in time to watch Despair vanish in a burst of Pale Green fire. Harry held his hand out and watched as Dust soon came to settle on his arm. "Let's go Dust." He said, placing the crow on his shoulder and moving into the train.

Harry went into the first compartment he could find and drew his trunk from his pocket. He tapped his wand against the match box, making it grow in side. He opened it, grabbing a book on Alchemy and his sheet of parchment with his message to those outside of the compartment. He quickly stuck the parchment to the window and turned around, only to find he was not alone in the compartment.

Inside was a tiny slip of a blonde, clearly a first year from the look of her facial features and the look in her large bright blue eyes. She wore a pair of jeans with a powder blue blouse. A necklace of butterbeer bottle caps hung around her neck and her earrings looked to be miniature radishes. Her wand was tucked behind her ear like someone might do with a pen or pencil and she was reading a newspaper, the Quibbler if Harry made out the letters correctly, upside down.

"I apologize for bursting in." Harry said, about to tuck his book away.

"It's okay Harry. You can sit in here. How is Despair doing?" The girl asked brightly.

Harry blinked rather owlishly. His mind ground to a halt at the idea that this little girl, this little first year that has yet to be sorted, knew he was the Rider of the Pale Steed. How did learned adults not know when she knew? More importantly, how did she know? How was it still a secret?

"Oh shoot." The girl said, pursing her lips and touching them with her finger. "We're not friends yet and I'm not supposed to know about him." She lightly rapped on her forehead with her knuckles. "Focus Luna." She told herself.

Harry sat down, staring at the girl. His mind whirled with possibilities. Was it possible that another Rider had awoken as a Rider? Was it possible that they somehow knew that they were a Rider and found him? No… That wasn't right. The Sorting Hat had said that the other Riders had been Sorted before him and this was clearly a first year.

He could see her trunk in the rack; it didn't have any of the colors of any of the houses emblazoned on it by Hogwarts' magic.

'_I am not the one to help you in your quest. The one to help you will reveal herself'_ Unbidden, the memory of his one and only meeting with Professor Trelawney came to mind. Harry looked to the girl, Luna she called herself. "You're my Seer." Harry said simply.

Luna bit her lip but relented with a nod. "Luna Lovegood. I'm supposed to help you, but I'm afraid I'm not sure how much help I'll be Harry." She said softly. "My visions are never… easy. They are always influenced by every event made by everyone, no matter how innocuous they seem at the time. I see what will be and as my life goes on, the possibilities begin to narrow. Some events I still remember, even though they will never come to pass in this timeline, others I can't remember despite their importance. I have seen you as a Paragon of Good and the Evilest of Monsters that make Riddle look like a Saint. I have seen you a Gryffindor; I have seen you a Hufflepuff, a Slytherin, and a Ravenclaw. It can be a little intense seeing all those possibilities."

Harry watched her. He bowed his head, asking for forgiveness for what he had to do. "I'm sorry to ask this Luna, but I need help." He admitted. A whole year went by and he still had no idea who any of the other Riders were. He had suspicions, but he had no way of absolutely knowing.

Luna nodded and her eyes grew unfocused and glassy. "_One a Serpent, One a Lion, One an Eagle, One a Badger."_ Her voice had turned gravely. '_The Cunning Warrior, the Loyal Healer, and the Courageous Farmer." _Her nose leaked blood. "_The Loyal Healer has made herself known." _Tears streamed from her eyes as her body slumped and life began to return to her eyes.

Harry moved himself closer. He grabbed a handkerchief from his trunk and began to dab at her nose. "Are you alright Luna?" he asked, absolutely terrified he may have hurt her. He didn't want to hurt someone that was supposed to be helping him.

"I'm fine." Luna said, taking the soft cloth and pressing it to her nose a little bit more, tilting her head forward to let it run out. "Nosebleeds happen often. I hope the information was useful."

How could he have been so blind? It was obvious with Luna's hint. Everything feel into place for Pestilence and he knew precisely who he needed to speak to and convince that they would be Pestilence. Her information was most useful. "Thank you Luna, it was most helpful." He then moved to put his trunk up beside hers.

He sat down across from her. "What house do you think you'll be in Luna?" he asked.

"Ravenclaw." Luna said firmly and confidently. "I'm always in Ravenclaw without fail."

The fact she didn't even have to look told Harry the truth of those words.

A knock sounded on the door, drawing Harry's attention towards it. He stood up and went to the door to answer it. He was faced with the stoic visage of Daphne Greengrass, leading along another young first year with hair as black as Harry's. "Daphne." Harry politely greeted her. He did not have as much of a relationship with the eldest Greengrass sister. They were study partners for History of Magic, but the girl was… stoic quite often.

"Harry." Daphne replied. "Would you mind if we sat with you? Malfoy tried to assert his dominance, and I won't put up with it."

"Please, be my guest." Harry said, opening the door wider. He then got both girls trunks and lugged them up into the overhead rack. He sat down beside Luna, across from the two girls. "This is Luna Lovegood." He motioned to the other blonde in the compartment.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Daphne Greengrass." Daphne politely introduced herself to Luna. "This is my sister Astoria." The dark haired girl nodded her head with a small and polite smile. "She's just starting at Hogwarts."

"So am I." Luna said cheerfully. "The Nargles tell me that I'm going to be in Ravenclaw." She said airily.

Harry wanted to arch his brow at that. He wondered what a Nargle was. "Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad." Astoria said, getting Harry to look at her. "Our mother was a Ravenclaw. But Slytherin wouldn't be bad either. I'll have Daphne to talk to."

Harry turned to regard Daphne who was watching her sister. There was something about both girls, mostly Daphne, that Harry couldn't quite put a finger on. He narrowed his eyes a bit. "Daphne, have you done something to your hair? It's lighter." Harry finally asked. She used to be a honey colored blonde, now it was lighter by a few shades.

"Is it?" Daphne asked, touching her hair. "I haven't noticed." Even Astoria seemed surprised about it being lighter.

It told Harry that it had been a gradual change if her sister hadn't noticed. Something was fishy about that. Magic didn't just change a person's hair color subtlety. It usually was spontaneous, instant. Illusions could give that subtleness, but both Greengrass girls seemed surprised about it.

Harry was willing to bet that even Daphne's parents wouldn't have noticed.

"Harry, could I speak with you privately?" Daphne asked, motioning towards the door.

The Potter Heir stood up and stepped out, holding the door for Daphne. They made their way to the caboose where some cargo was being transported, one car back from the final cart for passengers. Harry moved to one of the crates and leaned against it slightly. "What do you need Daphne?" he asked.

"If my sister is sorted into Slytherin, I can keep an eye on her quite well and help her defend herself as well as avoid the pitfalls of the inner house politics of Slytherin House. I am not quite capable of doing this in other houses. She is intelligent enough to make it into the House of Eagles before the Houses of Badgers or Lions. If she's sorted into Ravenclaw, I want you solemn word that you will do your best to watch over her-" Daphne was going to continue when Harry cut her off.

"Done." He said simply, enjoying the surprised look on Daphne's face.

It then turned to one of suspicion. "At what price Harry?" she asked. It was in her nature to be suspicious. Most people around her were liars, users, and opportunists. Many members of Slytherin House deserved its dark reputation.

"None." Harry said pleased to see the surprise return. "You are my friend Daphne, though we are both distant introverted people. The fact you trust me enough to watch over your sister who seems very precious to you means a great deal to me. I will watch over her and keep her from harm."

"Thank you." Daphne said before turning away to go back to their compartment.

-_**Scene Break-**_

The Sorting Ceremony went off without any incident. Harry sat at his usual spot towards the head of the table, watching as each and every first year was sorted into their respective houses. He took the time to match names with faces of the Ravenclaw first years.

As predicted, Luna was made a Ravenclaw without the Sorting Hat even touching her head. She skipped the short distance to the head of the table, sitting across from Harry.

And indeed, Astoria Greengrass was sorted into Ravenclaw. The dark haired girl walked with the poise and grace of a pureblood, but didn't quite have the stoicism of her elder sister. She returned Luna's wave, with Luna still waiting at the time to be sorted.

"To those joining us for the first time, Welcome!" Dumbledore announced when the last of the students were sorted. "For those returning, Welcome Back! I will not take too much of your time, I'm sure all of you are quite hungry. The Forbidden Forest is precisely that, Forbidden." At this, he looked towards the Weasley Twins who were look anywhere but Dumbledore while whistling 'innocently'

"A few changes in staff. I'd like to introduce Professor Remus Lupin as our new, full time History of Magic Professor." Dumbledore gestured to a rather haggard looking man. He wore a somewhat rough looking suit, which he managed to make look presentable.

Harry recognized him instantly as the friend Sirius had tried to introduce him to.

"Next, our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart has graciously agreed to fulfill the post." Dumbledore said, motioning to the man that was quite full of himself. He was dressed in a gaudy puce set of robes.

Harry turned up his Deathly Aura, directing it at the man whose arm he broke. He felt a distinct satisfaction as the man sat down. It was a shame he decided not to press any charges. He'd have loved to let Andromeda tear the man apart in court and Amelia would have likely enjoyed watching.

But Harry couldn't exactly claim the victim party too much. He had already broken the man's arm.

"Now tuck in, and enjoy!" Dumbledore declared before sitting down as the food appeared on the students' tables.

After dinner, Dumbledore stood up. "Prefects, please get your charges to their dorms. Mr. Potter, could you please come with me. I have a matter I wish to discuss with you."

Harry rose to his feet, glancing to the diminutive form of Professor Flitwick. When the half-goblin teacher motioned him to follow Dumbledore, Harry stepped a little faster after the Headmaster. Apparently the Charms Professor already knew what Dumbledore wanted to talk about.

Dumbledore led Harry into a smaller side room where Professor Lupin already was. Dumbledore then turned to regard Harry. "Mr. Potter, this is a sensitive matter I wish to discuss and hope you will understand when I ask that this doesn't leave this room."

Harry glanced to Dumbledore. Unbidden, his gaze went to the pinned up sleeve where Dumbledore had lost his arm defending Harry. The least he could do was hear the old man. He needed to give Dumbledore just a little bit more slack. Harry's green eyes then went to Lupin, attempting to figure out why he was there, why they both were there.

What did Harry have that Lupin needed? Why the secrecy? Flitwick had known, so it likely was something known to many of the professors, or at least those old enough to have been Professors while Lupin went to Hogwarts. So it left the students and that they would likely react without reason.

So it was something somewhat dangerous about the rather unassuming man.

Then there was the energy coming off of Lupin. It was powerful, wild and full of life. It was as foreign to Harry as possible and yet beautiful and fascinating in its own right.

Why Harry? What did he have? Businesses, properties… And there was where it clicked. "You're the individual that made use of the Shrieking Shack."

It made sense. Cold iron bars that were resistant to this powerful and wild magic, it was secluded and relatively warded to keep students from going there. And Lupin would be dangerous if he left the Shack in the state it was: clawed marks and destroyed furniture.

Lupin looked briefly surprised before he smiled softly. "You have Lily's quick wits Harry." He said softly. "Yes, I was kept in the Shrieking Shack while I was here at Hogwarts. It's safer for everyone that way, and I'd like to use the facilities it offers again. As a werewolf, I'm a threat to the students and the cell in the basement was… well it wasn't comfortable to be honest, but it kept me contained."

Harry looked between Dumbledore and then Lupin. "Done, under a few conditions." Harry said. "First, Professor Lupin is to receive the Wolf's Bane Potion monthly and he's to drink it monthly. I will pay for it if I have to. Second, I want tissue samples. Blood and saliva will do for time being, though if you consent, I would also like bone tissue samples. I will get these samples before you shift, during the shifted time, and after you shift. I want to study the disease and see if it can actually be cured." Harry said this firmly.

Lupin started to shake his head. "It's too dangerous." He said.

"I accept the risks Professor." Harry said rather coolly. "And if you think I can't forcefully take the tissue samples, please remember that it is my home you are asking to use. A home I have warded heavily."

"Would you really forcefully try to obtain tissue samples?" Dumbledore asked, sounding a bit weary.

"As I said, Headmaster, I wish to study the disease. I know of a Healer that can help me study the tissues in a safe environment." A partial lie as well. Harry had no doubt Jonathan Demonbreun would help him if he asked, Harry had no intention of asking him.

Instead, he'd ask the Queen of all diseases, Pestilence, when he found her.

Lupin hesitated. Sirius would kill him if Harry ended up becoming a werewolf. And when he got to the afterlife with James and Lily, they would make him wish he went somewhere else. "Very well Mr. Potter." Lupin said, having been told of Harry's rather cold and professional demeanor when dealing with the staff.

The two shook hands to seal the deal and Harry headed to bed.

Harry had plans to make starting the next morning.

-**End Chapter-**


	33. Book 2: Chapter 6

_Last Time: Harry makes a deal with High King Ragnarokk regarding the armor for him and Despair. An unknown force keeps Harry from boarding the Hogwarts express and he has to catch the train on his trusty steed. Here, he has met his Seer an eccentric girl named Luna Lovegood. After the Sorting Ceremony, Harry has agreed to allow the new History of Magic Professor, Remus Lupin, the use of the cell inside the Shrieking Shack in exchange for tissue samples so that he might study the werewolf disease._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 6

It was a new year, but Harry's routine was much the same. He got up early; he went for a run while Dust flew around. He got a shower and dressed properly before going to the Room of Requirements on the Seventh Floor to Study. After all, the Room was quiet, secluded, difficult to get into, and offered him plenty of training dummies to practice his spell work against.

It also gave him plenty of time to plan and think, both of which were important. He would need to start sending letters to Andromeda Tonks, his current legal aid, about how to go about changing the laws regarding the Goblin Rights of Selling. And he would likely need to speak with Cornelius Fudge regarding it as well.

Politics, they were not for the weak of heart.

Then there was Pestilence, or Plague if she'd rather that, and how to go about getting her to believe him when he told her the truth. The proof was easy, though his familiar definitely didn't like what he would use as proof. It was getting her to speak with him in private without revealing too many secrets.

If she pulled a runner, Harry worried for his secrets.

They would likely spend the next several months collecting her tools. Though the items were nearly as numerous as War's or his. Pestilence had a set of robes, a set of gloves, a mask, a bow, and a quiver. Plus, her mount but that would have to be done with great care.

He would also likely get her a sword to fight with at close range.

Harry finished his practice with his magic and sighed softly. He looked to the results and nodded softly. He knew it wouldn't be the best result, especially trying to create such a high powered Ice Spell that called upon the Highest Entity of Ice. And with the lack of actual practice, it was no doubt that was another problem.

Satisfied with his practice, Harry grabbed his things and slung his bag over his shoulder. As he was making his way to the door, Harry paused as a flash of fire alerted him to Fawkes the Phoenix arriving with the Sorting Hat.

"Hello Amadeus." Harry greeted the hat. "Fawkes. How are you both doing today?" He owed the Phoenix a great deal for keeping him alive after the debacle with the Philosopher's Stone last year.

Fawkes gave a warm and happy trill. Amadeus, the Sorting Hat, spoke as a seam split wide open. "Quite well Mr. Potter. We had an excellent batch of First Years this year, more than our usual amount I am pleased to say. It is about these First Years that I decided to have Fawkes bring me to you."

Harry moved over to the Hat. "What about the First Years? The other Riders were sorted before me. And I thought you couldn't discuss such information with anyone."

"This is true. However, after the events of last year, more specifically when you raised Godric and Salazar from their rest, things changed. It was pleasant resting upon Godric's head once more. He and Salazar tweaked my enchantments a little bit. Rowena would have been able to do much more, but alas she was not buried here at Hogwarts, or else you might have raised her as well." Amadeus said, sounding quite pleased and perhaps a little nostalgic.

"Instead, this pertains to what Godric spoke with you about last year. Finding the Heirs of the Founders. The enchantments still do not let me tell you specifically who they are, or what Houses they are in, but Godric's Heir arrived last night Mr. Potter and was sorted. All four Heirs are here at Hogwarts. Three are Upper years and one a First Year. I cannot assist you more than this, my enchantments forbid it."

Harry wanted to swear at the reminder of the fact he would find the other Heirs and set about trying to drag Hogwarts back to Glory. His work seemed never ending. He got the businesses to where he only had to check things once a week instead of daily, and at this point it was all just fine tuning things. The Potter and Black businesses were bringing a profit and slowly working to expand in the Mundane side of things.

Now, now he had to go over records between transactions, genealogy reports, and what few documents he might be able to find at Hogwarts. He would also undoubtedly have to get several Mundane reports which would have Harry going through Gringotts once more.

With Witches and Wizards mostly giving up children born without magic, there was no telling if the Heirs were Mundane Born or not.

There was also working with Pestilence, continuing his own studies, searching for Famine, changing the laws for the Goblins, leaving on a Monthly basis to work with Forge Master Giblet.

Harry couldn't help but give a rueful laugh. His work was never finished it seemed. "This will be quite the challenge. Dust." He said, holding his hand out to his familiar and feeling the crow settle down.

He looked forward to the challenge to be perfectly honest.

Once down in the Great Hall, Harry got some parchment from his bag out and started to work on a draft to send to Andromeda. While he could use a more casual tone with Andromeda, being distant cousins and all, Harry wanted to make sure that he phrased everything he needed in regards to the Goblins.

Admittedly, Harry also had an ulterior motive in trying to get the laws changed. If he could get the laws changed for the Goblins to sell things outside of Gringotts, then there was hope that Harry could get the laws regarding Death Magic to be changed.

So, he worked diligently on his first draft of the letter, making sure it outlined each of the points he wanted to go over with Andromeda. While Andromeda's field of law was more criminal in nature, she could still help him and point him in a better direction.

Harry glanced up as he watched Luna plop down in front of him. "Good Morning Luna." Harry said politely as he continued to work on his letter.

"Good Morning Harry." Luna said brightly. She looked to the letter, a small smile coming across her lips as she read it upside down. "If you need any help, Daddy could run a few articles on Goblin wares and the difficulty of getting a hold of them." She offered. "It'd be for a fee, but I'm sure that's no problem."

Harry glanced up at Luna; a little surprised she had read the letter so easily. But then he remembered how she had been reading the Quibbler. "I will consider it Luna, thank you for the gracious offer." Once Harry finished the first draft, he let the ink dry before tucking it away.

He took his time eating his food. After spending most of last year not getting to particularly enjoy the food, getting the chance to actually enjoy it some was nice. He fed Dust a bit of toast, stroking the crow's chest with one finger.

When he was finished with his breakfast, Harry set about quickly working on a more important draft. He had a letter to send to Director Gringott, he had a letter to send to the Blood and Hereditary Offices of the Ministry of Magic.

Gringott oversaw the Hogwarts account that had been opened shortly after Gringotts had opened. The Director of the Bank oversaw the account which could only be accessed by all four Founders' Heirs or by the Headmaster in limited fashion. However, Harry, as Heir Slytherin, could still request financial statements regarding the withdraw of funds from the account, which could tell him if the Founders' Heirs had ever been gathered before.

It would also give him a bit of a direction if he could get the names of those individuals, which was why he requested any information pertaining to any Headmaster to be left out of the reports.

Of course, at the same time, if something was off, then the Goblins would also be able to find it. They would be searching through plenty of financial records after all.

"Busy again Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked as he approached the pair, a stack of parchment in his arms.

Harry looked up to his head of house, and admittedly his favorite Professor. "Yes Sir." He said softly. "I've found more projects I need to work on, some for personal reasons and some not."

Flitwick nodded and passed Harry his schedule. Harry noted that his first day he had a free day, though the day after he would be having a double period of Defense Against the Dark Arts followed by a period of History of Magic.

"Are you still planning for me to chaperone you and Mr. Weasley to the Chess Tournament during the summer?" Flitwick asked.

"Yes Professor and I still plan to join the Dueling Tournament in Hong Kong the following week as promised in return." Harry said rolling his schedule up and tucking it into his bag.

"Excellent. I trust we'll still have time to go over your conditioning for the Tournament then, even with as many projects as you have?" Flitwick asked, motioning to the parchments.

"Of course Sir." Harry said. He was once more sleeping few hours. He was usually up by four in the morning. "Will Sundays work for you Professor, or should I clear my schedule a different day?"

"Sundays are fine Mr. Potter. I will see you then." Flitwick passed Luna her schedule, as well as a sheet of parchment detailing when she would be meeting with Flitwick as an opportunity for them to touch base and get to know one another.

"Have you already read your Defense Against the Dark Arts books?" Luna asked as she glanced over her schedule and tucked it away.

Harry wasn't entirely sure how much Luna knew with her Seer abilities, but he decided not to question the young girl. "No, they feel too much like I'm reading a Novel than an actual text book." Whereas the other books actually read like a text book and Harry had devoured the knowledge within, making sure to take notes and write questions he had down.

They would be starting on animal transfiguration and Harry couldn't help but be a little excited about it. After all, being capable of turning into an animal would be a useful thing to have, though Dust was still mum on whether or not Harry had the gift of being an Animagus or not.

Harry glanced up as the owls began to swoop in, delivering mail for the first time and getting the first year Mundane born to look on in excitement. Harry's eyes drifted over to the Hufflepuff table, watching discreetly as an owl dropped off a letter and took to flight once more.

Harry busied himself with his rough drafts once more, even if his mind was awhirl with excitement. He was a step closer to getting Pestilence in his corner.

When Harry awoke that morning, he realized that he could not so easily speak with the individual that he figured was Pestilence. He would need to greet her as Death, so that she might realize how important this was. And so, he needed to send a letter as anonymous as Death.

But he could not use Ashes for the letter either. Death could not be linked with Harry Potter. Harry was almost certain that Flitwick had figured it out, which meant that likely Dumbledore had figured it out as well. But without any proper evidence to prove it, neither of them could call him out on it.

So, Harry had used one of the school owls, one of the many, to deliver an important letter that could decide a great many things. And Harry knew he needed Pestilence's help. He just had a strong gut feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach. For some reason, he knew if he failed to find and unite the Four Horsemen that bad things would happen. So he would find them, and he would get all the artifacts together for all of them.

And, Harry admitted, that it was possible for his intended target to receive the letter from home, he did not think it was the case. He fully believed that his letter was the one that his target had, and so he had to prepare to meet with the young Hufflepuff in just a short two days' time. He had, after all, requested the meeting for that Friday, after her last class of the day in front of the Room of Requirement.

-_**Scene Break-**_

She had read the note a dozen times to the point of memorization. She felt conflicted about it. On one hand, it seemed… odd that she was being asked to meet alone in a portion of the castle that didn't get much traffic. She had been taught and raised from a young age that in areas that didn't get much traffic she should try to take someone with her, in case something happened.

She had thought to take it to Professor Sprout, but in the end she kept it hidden to herself. The note mentioned things she had never mentioned to anyone before and it worried her. What would Professor Sprout say about that? What could be said about the fact she had, from a young age, had rats and insects come to her? That they acted docile around her.

She remembered going camping the Muggle way before. Mosquitos bit the people she had been with, but they left her alone.

How could the person known something she had never told someone else?

So she kept the note to herself and thought on it. Her Housemates noticed her drawing into herself regarding it as well. She hadn't meant to really, but it gnawed at her something fierce. It ate at her so much, that on that Friday, she skipped her last class of the day. To her friends she cited that she wasn't feeling too well, that it would pass but she didn't think she'd make it to class.

Instead, she sat on her bed for most of the time. Finally, she stood up and grabbed her wand before making her way up to the Seventh Floor. Was there even a portrait of Barnabas the Barmy in Hogwarts? It seemed like the sort of portrait that wouldn't be allowed at a school.

Then again, given Dumbledore's quirks, anything was possible really.

She was surprised when she found the portrait of the man attempting to teach a bunch of trolls how to dance ballet. She gave a snort as one of them fell over, only for the man to encourage it to get back up. How he managed not to get clubbed, even in the portrait, she would never know.

"Okay!" she called out loud, turning slowly and holding her wand in her hand. "I'm here, and I'm alone."

"Yes, I see that Ms. Abbot."

Hannah spun quickly, her blonde pigtails almost smacking her in the face. Her eyes widened at the sight of the individual that chose to meet her.

His black cloak hung from his shoulders as he stepped from a doorway that hadn't been there before. It obscured much of his features, and the hood was brought up over his head. Though the Cowl underneath hid his features as well. Emerald green flames stared at her. The silver gauntlet on his left hand flashed in the light as he brought up both hands to hold them out, a sign that he meant no harm.

Hannah felt her heart thundering in her chest. She had been one of the students to witness the battle at the end of the last year. She had been taking Professor Sprout's written portion of her exam on the First Floor where Professor Sprout had a classroom for the theory. She had been the one to point it out as the Undead had begun to rise.

"Please don't scream Ms. Abbot, I am here for peaceful means." Death told her, his tone quiet and gentle, even as contorted as it was.

Hannah squelched her instinct to scream and run. She had seen that scythe of his extend rapidly and there was no doubt in her mind she could be killed if that thing came into play. "W-What do you want?" she asked. Her earlier concerns were forgotten, all she cared about was trying not to get killed that day.

The man or boy, she really couldn't tell which, took a step towards her and she took a step back. "I wish only to speak with you Ms. Abbot. I have come to believe that you are someone that is… interesting to me, and special."

Hannah felt her heart beat faster. Did this man take a romantic interest in her? Oh she hoped not. She couldn't help the shudder of slight revulsion that went through her. "Interesting and special how?" she asked

"I believe you to be… like me. Similar but different still. You command plague carries. Rats, mosquitoes, maggots, cockroaches." Death spoke confidently.

Hannah swallowed slightly. How did he know all that? Their House Elf, Adon, went nuts at the cockroaches that seemed to appear in her bedroom. Her room was spotless, and yet they kept coming and no one seemed to know what to do. Adon had magically cleaned all of her furniture of the creatures, but they seemed to always come back. "You're wrong." She said, desperately not wanting to get involved with the man.

"Am I? You've never been sick, have you?" That was like a bit of a slap to Hannah as her eyes widened. Her mother had been puzzled over that for the longest. Aside from the Dragon Pox in her blood, Hannah had never been sick. Never ran a fever, never had the flu, she had never even thrown up.

But how did he know that? Did he also know about the Dragon Pox in her veins? That she was a carrier for it? She shook her head vehemently. "No." she said desperately, backing up again.

"And I'd be willing to bet a fair fortune that if we took a sample of your blood and studied it, there would be at least one major virus inside of it, one major disease." Death said. He kept his distance from her. "You Ms. Abbot, I believe you to be my contemporary, the Horseman, or in this Horsewoman, Pestilence, or Plague if you'd rather."

"No!" Hannah shouted, denying his words, despite how true they were. She raised her wand up, aiming it for center mass like Amelia had taught both her and Susan to do. "I'm not like you." She pleaded desperately. She was scared at the secrets this being knew.

He held up both hands once more. He then said six words that scared her. "What if I could prove it?"

Her friends and family knew Hannah was the curious sort. Always questioning, always wondering. If there was proof to a claim, she'd listen simply because she was curious. She didn't let her emotions rule her, even if she was a very emotional girl. Even terrified, this didn't stop. "P-prove it?" she asked.

Death dipped his head once, acknowledging it. "I can prove it Ms. Abbot, if you'd consent to go on a ride with me."

"Where to?" Hannah asked, her wand shaking slightly, but keeping it trained.

"A special place, where only those like myself can access. Those bound by the Old Laws." Death told her. "Me, you, the creature I fought a few months ago. Any Witch or Wizard might be in the general vicinity, but to truly see it, you need to be special."

He turned away from Hannah and raised that silver gauntlet up. "Despair." He called out.

Hannah sucked in her breath as Emerald Green flames erupted in the hallway. A mighty Thestral stood there with green flames licking at it. Death mounted his steed easily, situating his legs behind the Thestral's wings. She shouldn't have been able to see the Thestrals yet; she hadn't seen death in her life yet.

This told Hannah that this one must be special. And for it to appear out of nowhere, it told her just how true that thought was.

"We'll only be gone for ten minutes at most, Ms. Abbot." Death told her, holding out a hand to her. "But understand if you choose to go down the rabbit hole, there can be no backing out. Your only option is to go deeper."

Hannah felt conflicted at the words. She didn't want to do anything she would regret. But she had to see this through. It scared her deeply, but she began to approach Death. She took his gauntleted hand and moved with him as she was pulled up onto his mount.

Death nodded to her and patted Despair on his neck. "Take us to the Temple in the Sahara, multiple jumps so she doesn't see the In Between." He told the Steed.

"Wait, what?" Hannah asked. "I thought you said we'd only be gone ten minutes?!"

Despair took off, flashing through jumps. In and out, not even slowing as they almost ran into several walls. The creature even galloped over water briefly before vanishing in the acidic green flames. Hannah clutched at the back of the Steed's master.

"What about the Stature of Secrecy?" She asked desperately. She was terrified of someone seeing them.

"Despair can't be seen unless he wants to be." Death replied. "He's no mere Thestral. He's the Pale Horse, the very wind itself contained in his form!" At the declaration, Despair seemed to take off faster, as though to prove himself of the title and praise.

It was less than a minute when they appeared in the hot desert. From the moderate temperatures of the late summer in England to the scorching heat of the Sahara Desert, Hannah couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. But then a chill began to creep into her, and she felt it originating from her 'companion'. It pushed back the heat just enough to be bearable.

"There." Death said pointing in the distance as Despair started to stride towards it.

Hannah took in the structure. It was an oddly shaped temple of some sort. It looked like it shouldn't exist, that even with magic to help it stand it would collapse. And strangely enough, it seemed to be moving. Constantly shifting and reconfiguring itself. "Why doesn't Despair flash us over?" she asked.

"What is the most dangerous creature of the Desert you can think of Ms. Abbot?" Death asked her.

Part of her wanted to say the creature she was riding with and she didn't mean the horse. But she took a moment to think, remembering books she read. She hadn't taken Care of Magical Creatures yet, so her knowledge was limited. "A Nundu." She said confidently.

Its poisonous breath could kill even a basilisk and it took almost a hundred stunners simultaneously to stun the creature. Something like that had to be at the top of the food chain. They mostly lived in East Africa, but there were reports of them around Egypt as well

"A Nundu, Despair can handle." Death told her, causing her eyes to widen. "A Nundu, Ms. Abbot, you could survive an encounter with so long as you avoid the teeth and claws."

"What about its breath?" she asked. It had been known to melt the flesh off a wizard with the number of diseases mixed into it.

"If you are indeed Pestilence, at most, the diseases would make you get nauseated, perhaps even vomit. You'd run a fever, sweat. But your body would adapt in a day or two. And you would become even deadlier as your blood becomes a carrier for all those poisons, all those toxins and diseases. Ms. Abbot, being Pestilence protects you even from the most destructive poison known to Wizards, Basilisk venom."

His tone was quite serious and Hannah couldn't help but feel a little awed and overwhelmed about it. There had been no cases of anyone surviving Basilisk venom. Theory held that a Phoenix's tears could cure it, but no one had ever come forward regarding that information to the medical community. And Phoenix's were difficult creatures to make cry.

"But back to my earlier statement. A Nundu is not at the top of the food chain out here. What we must be cautious of, most Witches and Wizards know nothing about because they cannot survive the initial ambush. It lays in wait underneath the sands, its body bloated and twisted by the magic of the temple. It is an ambush predator, and so long as we don't enter its range, it will not try to strike."

Hannah was curious how he knew about it if this creature killed all that it attacked. But she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was, not enough to ask about it.

Eventually, when they came to be about ten feet away from the Temple, Despair stopped. Death motioned for her to get off and slowly she slipped from his mount before she was joined by the hooded figure himself.

"Where are we?" she asked patiently. The temple was in fact moving, shifting its structure around.

"Somewhere that's a source of our power." He said mysteriously, leading her towards the door. The stones circling the temple flew down and acted as steps up towards the door.

Hannah moved to catch up, glancing over her shoulder at Despair. "Will he be okay out here?" she asked worried. It was their ride back after all.

"Yes, he'll be fine. But Despair is bound by the Old Laws as well. He will not come any closer to this place, even under penalty of his physical form being killed. Even we," He motioned to the two of them. "Should not exactly be here, except in Emergencies. However, this is also my proof to you who you are."

Hannah nodded softly, swallowing as she joined him at the open door. They moved into a large ruined area. She glanced out; trying to figure out what was so special when Death began to move.

He ran at a wall, going up it a few steps before catching himself on a ledge in the broken rock. He flung himself up higher by nothing more than the strength in his arms and fingers. He caught a wooden post that stuck out of the wall and pulled himself up to stand on it with both heels pressed together. He leapt at the top half of a crumbled pillar before leaping away.

Hannah gasped as the top half came crumbling down, crashing and falling apart. Death however had already slung his left hand out, his weapon extending from his gauntlet to wrap around another wooden post to allow him to swing and catch himself between two walls. He shimmied up to the ceiling before leaping out to catch a chain, swinging his body and releasing at the height of his apex.

Hannah had watched a cage come up before going crashing down, the chain being yanked from the pulley system it had been attached to. Her eyes widened as she saw Death upon another ledge, standing by a lever. He pulled it and there was a loud rumbling as the stones began to shift. Stairs formed down from where he was at, coming up from the black abyss the cage had fallen into.

And in the center of those stairs was a passage way that led deeper into the temple. Logic said it should have hit a stone wall, yet she doubted it did.

Death joined her down the stairs, stepping over the skeletal bones of the occupant of the fallen cage. He paused, glancing down the dimly lit corridor cut into the stairs. "Ms. Abbot, past this point, everything will be all you if you are indeed Pestilence. Because I am Death, I was able to bring us this far. If you are Pestilence, you will go into the Heart of this Temple. If you are not… then you will find yourself outside when you walk through this corridor. I know who, and what I truly am Ms. Abbot. When you're ready to find out who you are…"

Death began walking into the darkness.

Hannah breathed heavily. Her heart thundered in her chest and she brought her hands up to press against her chest. It was terrifying. There were too many things adding up. "Who I am…" she said, wondering softly.

She glanced behind her, to the daylight. There was nothing stopping her from leaving. Her need to know if he was right caused her to start walking forward, into the darkness. The torches helped guide her, but the dark was oppressive and seemed to absorb the light.

She came out in a massive chamber with Death standing to her side. She looked up at the object dominating the room. It pulsed and beat; moving like it was some sort of black heart. But it was made of stone. Thick and massive black chains held it suspended in the room as it beat strong, red lines racing through it.

"What is that?" she whispered softly.

"That… That is one of the Seven Seals of the Apocalypse." Death told her. "The Source of our Power. When all Seven break, the world will end, period. There is no fixing them, there is no delaying them. You can only speed the process up.

"Feel that power welling up inside of you?" He asked. Hannah did, she felt so full of magic and energy. "That is us siphoning power from the Seal, reducing the time it has left until it breaks. It is a permanent increase of power, but it is only intended to be used in the event of an emergency."

Hannah looked to Death before back up to the Seal. "How fast?" she whispered.

"If you or I were here alone, it would take a month for the Seal to be destroyed and its power drained. With two of us here, that time cuts down to a week. With Three Horsemen, it cuts down to a day. With all four Horsemen, here in this room, the Seal would deteriorate in an Hour." He turned on his heel and began to leave, not wanting to reduce the time any more than they already had.

Hannah jogged to catch up with him. "How long do we have?" She asked. The thought of the world being doomed terrified her.

"We will likely not see the end of the world." Death told her. "The Seals were made to last a long time, longer than human history very likely. It should tell you why going to the temples is Emergency only. The few moments we stood in that chamber, we likely shaved a few centuries off the World's time."

"Why me?" Hannah asked softly. "I'm a kid!"

"As am I." Death told her rather bluntly. "But Plague and Pestilence knows no age, Death knows no age, War knows no age, and Famine knows no age. The cruel reality, Ms. Abbot, is that life does not care about age. We cannot tell anyone of who we are unless they are another Rider."

"Why not? I want to be able to do good in the world, but it sounds like I can only do bad!" Hannah shouted as they made it to the antechamber.

Death turned to look at her. "Because you command diseases!" He inhaled slowly. "Imagine being tortured and broken until you are nothing but a tool for someone. Imagine killing the entire populace of London with nothing but a few drops of your blood in the water supply. Because that can happen, Ms. Abbot. And there are those in this world that would seek to own your abilities, just as they would seek to own mine. I command Death. I allow things to go about the natural order of things, but make no mistake; I can stop Death from taking someone. It goes against the natural order of things, and it would cause many problems in the world. We cannot tell anyone who we are so that they do not capture us. We hold the power to destroy the world, Ms. Abbot."

Hannah sucked her breath in, the thought of what he was saying finally getting through to her. "Who are you, really?" she asked. She was scared to know, but she deserved to know in her opinion.

He reached up and pushed his hood back. He grabbed his cowl and slowly lowered it, revealing the face of Harry Potter. "Hello Hannah."

-**End Chapter-**

A/N: Well there you have it folks, the first Rider has been found. Not like I didn't practically hand feed this one to y'all. Pestilence is indeed Hannah Abbot.

I have a question for y'all. I usually don't reply to reviews in the chapter, feeling they take away from the word count and all and they may come across as making excuses when someone gives constructive criticism. But do you guys want me to start replying to your comments? Let me know.

HBW


	34. Book 2: Chapter 7

_Last Time: Harry has introduced himself to the first of the other Riders in the form of Hannah Abbot. _

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 7

Harry dismounted from Despair and led Hannah across the hall from Barnabas the Barmy and soon opened the manifesting door. He ushered Hannah in, glancing around carefully. He knew the Ghosts wouldn't spy on him, but he was still paranoid, even being in full Death Regalia.

He shut the door and drew back the hood of his cloak as well as lowering his cowl. The room was a cozy study with bookshelves and two large arm chairs. Harry plopped himself down in one, motioning for Hannah to take the other. It had just been a few minutes since their excursion out to the Sahara. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions." Harry said, knowing he would be breaking the flood dam.

"A couple thousand, but I think I'll try to narrow them down to the most important ones." Hannah said as she sat down, running a hand through her hair slowly. "How long have you known you were going to be… Death?" she asked.

"Since Dust came to me when I was eight." Harry said simply.

"Dust?" Hannah asked confused for a second, trying to figure out what the crow had anything to do with it.

"Dust is the familiar of the Pale Rider and has been with them since the beginning." Harry offered as an explanation.

"Wait, so I'll get a familiar?" Hannah asked.

"Not necessarily. I can only offer a 'maybe' answer to that." Harry said and shrugged his shoulders a little bit. "Do you, Hannah Abbot the Rider of Pestilence, get a familiar? No. Do you, Hannah Abbot a second year Hufflepuff of Hogwarts, get a familiar? Maybe. Familiars are… fickle things from what I understand. Fact of the matter is Dust is the only familiar related to the Horsemen. He will be with us even when we ride upon the Apocalypse."

Hannah nodded slowly, understanding at least a little bit. She wasn't entirely sure why, but then again it didn't really matter. She could still get a familiar, but it wouldn't be tied to the Horsemen. "Is there a way out?" she asked softly. She wasn't sure she wanted to be a Horseman or Horsewoman as the case may be.

Harry shook his head. "Death is the only way out I'm afraid."

"Well what if I refuse to do anything in regards to it?" Hannah asked. She didn't want to be some sort of monster.

"Your powers will begin to bleed off." Harry said bluntly. "And they will affect the world at large. You have to give an outlet to these powers, which are the basics of magic. Accidental Magic isn't some stress related thing, Hannah. Accidental Magic is magic seeking a way out and finding it and acting upon it. We must guide it, not control it. But you must not let it run rampant either."

Hannah bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth. "Then why don't we hear more about such things?" she asked.

"Just because I need to find the other Riders and convince them that they are in fact the Horsemen, does not mean that this was the case in the past." Harry said. "Something must have occurred to the previous Pestilence that they were not able to find you in time to offer some manner of guidance. I am willing to bet it will be much the same for Famine and War as well."

"It sounds like we're getting the raw end of the deal." Hannah said. "I mean the other three Riders don't have a familiar? We have to hope we get guidance from the previous one?"

Harry nodded softly. "Yes, it may seem like that." He stayed quiet for a moment. "Pestilence and Famine do not have to fight the creatures from Beyond the Veil, the creature I fought last year. War tends to help the Pale Rider, but even they do not have to help. I will likely outlive the other three Riders, if I don't get killed fighting these creatures. And I suppose you can still technically leave." Harry motioned to the door. "Freewill and all, but your powers will never disappear. I look to help you harness them. I don't have that luxury of leaving. I will still be hunted by the creatures from Beyond the Veil. Until the Lock resets at the new Millennium, I will still be hunted."

Hannah paused. The loyalty she felt as a Hufflepuff felt conflicted about just leaving Harry to such a fate. "Why? What happens should they get you before the new Millennium?" she asked

"End of the World, Hannah." Harry said. "They tend to be so powerful that they don't bother with lying, and the one I fought at the end of last year spoke how my death would shatter the Lock, their King would march upon this world and shatter all but one of the remaining Seals of the Apocalypse. We would never Ride, the world would be thrown into utter anarchy."

Hannah blinked a bit. "That does not sound good." She said

Harry shook his head. "Take your worst case scenario and multiply it by ten and we might start getting close to the truth. Even I don't know the full extent of what would happen should that happen to this world." He admitted.

"So we need to protect the Seven Seals? Where are they all at?" Hannah asked.

'So it's we now?" Harry asked with a slight smile. "And no, we need to protect the remaining three. They are the strongest and can only be broken by this King's might. But he remains locked Beyond the Veil until summoned by his True Name or the Lock shatters with my death."

"His True Name?" Hannah asked, clearly confused.

"The creatures Beyond the Veil have actual names, like you and I, and their names are sources of power. Theoretically, if you know its True Name, you can control it. But the fact of the matter is that they're more dangerous than that, and the Old Laws might not work the same on them. But everything, be they living or dead or whatever those creatures are, has a True Name and can be summoned with it. Most Witches and Wizards don't know their True Name which is a good thing."

"But what if someone else finds out?" That seemed like a big thing to not know really.

"Then you best hope and pray, simple as that." Harry said. Even Dust, for all his knowledge, did not know Harry's True Name, or any of the previous Riders' True Name for that matter. "And don't, don't ever say their given name more than twice. The creature then would be able to follow you, influence you, and speak to you. And that's not a good thing." He said simply. "Names hold power Hannah, always remember that."

Hannah inhaled slowly, taking everything in. She was a little nervous she might mess something up. She was getting thrown into the deep end of things and she only had one life line. "Why were there only Seven Seals?" she asked softly. "That seems like a low number for such an important thing."

Harry nodded. "There were six Forgers at the time, Master Forgers that belong to a race long since rendered extinct on this World. The Seventh Seal was where they combined their powers and all the knowledge of their craft. There is a limit to this World's power however. Other Worlds could have a dozen seals, Hundreds based on size and population at the time of the Forging. But our world, thousands of years ago, wasn't as densely populated as it is today."

Hannah nodded slowly. "And what happens when all Seven Seals break?"

"End of Mankind." Harry said. "We Ride across the Realms tied to this World. Heaven, Earth, Hell, and we destroy it all. The denizens will fight, and they will lose. But as I said, with everything going according to plan, you and I won't be the Riders of the Apocalypse. At the moment, we just maintain things, keep an eye on things."

Hannah nodded drawing her legs up onto the chair. "I… I need a moment to process all of this. It's… this is…"

"It's some heavy facts." Harry supplied, knowing it wasn't exactly an easy thing to process. He just had more time to accept it and understand his role in everything.

Hannah had thus far had something close to twenty minutes, maybe thirty. It was a huge difference.

"Okay, as Pestilence, what exactly is my role?" she asked, curious as to what he had planned for her, or what was intended for her.

"As Pestilence, your role is simple." Harry said and shrugged. "Medic, or Healer if you'd rather, and researcher. I tend to get into a lot of trouble. Like just a few short months ago, I exhausted my magical reserves so much; I'm still saturated with my magic. I was a spell or two away from dying, and I had a heart attack. Had it not been for the adrenaline pumping through my body, I'm sure I would have died. I need a more dedicated Healer than the one I visited over the summer."

Hannah nodded softly. While she wasn't experienced like Madam Pomfrey or her mother, she was training to be a Healer, had from a young age. She had read many books on medical terminology and problems with both Magical and Muggle. She understood what magical saturation could do to complicate medical procedures. "Your heart is still weak, isn't it?"

Harry nodded once. He couldn't afford a pitched battle, not where he had to cast a lot of spells. "I exercise regularly to keep it from atrophying, but that doesn't change the fact that it has been weakened."

Hannah nodded and gave a wan smile. "So I can still be a Healer?" she asked hopefully.

Harry nodded. "I encourage you to be a Healer. Just because I'm Death doesn't change the fact I'm going to be a politician and a businessman when I'm finished with school."

Hannah's smile turned full on as she felt a great weight lifted from her shoulders. "Where are we?" She asked, standing up and looking about

Harry smiled as he stood up. "The greatest room in all of Hogwarts: The Room of Requirement. If it's here, or has been here at Hogwarts, this room could supply it. Hogwarts was once a grand school of magical learning with literally dozens of classes. Classrooms packed with students. This room… this room has access to it all and then some. It can be anything you need it to be… within reason. You still can't get perishables unless they're here at Hogwarts at the time. If the room can't make it, it… takes it from other parts of Hogwarts, so be careful."

If a bunch of food suddenly went missing from the Kitchens, someone somewhere would be trying to figure out why. Some with medical supplies, a single potion missing might not go amiss. Several definitely would.

"I use it to practice dangerous spells and more dangerous climbing terrains. I came to the conclusion that climbing Hogwarts was disrespectful to the institution. I still climb a replicated version here in the Room of Requirements, but not the actual Hogwarts. It's a little safer too, but I plan to take a brief vacation to Arizona this summer if Professor Flitwick would consent to go with me. Mundane air services tend to frown upon a child flying by themselves."

"What's in Arizona?" Hannah asked. It seemed like an oddly specific place to go in regards to climbing.

"The Grand Canyon. I'm sure I can find a place where I can go rock climbing." Harry admitted without shame.

Hannah could only shake her head. She didn't understand Harry's interest in the more extreme forms of fitness.

"This is also where we'll have your workshop, laboratory, study, whatever you want to call it. I'll be training you up a little bit so you can perform your duties as Pestilence and help me recover your artifacts. You'll also be studying a dangerous disease or two in here."

Hannah blinked a moment, turning to face Harry. "Artifacts?" she asked

Harry nodded. "You, as Pestilence have a bow, a quiver, a cloak, a mask, a pair of gloves, and your mount. I will also be providing you with a short sword, but we'll be teaching you how to fight the hard away. Lots and lots of experience against a superior foe."

Hannah grimaced. "I'm going to be fighting you aren't I?" she asked

"Afraid so, and I won't be pulling my punches. Your job is to learn to dodge. The less energy you expend fighting, the more energy you have to focus on Healing War and I."

Hannah nodded and slumped her shoulders a bit. But the Hufflepuff in her wouldn't let them down. She was committed now; she couldn't back down, knowing it could end up with someone else hurt. "What sort of diseases will I be studying?" she asked

"Lycanthropy first." Harry said.

Hannah recoiled in shock. "I'm studying the werewolf disease?! How are you going to get the samples? How will I study it? I need… beakers, microscopes, books on what to look for… and dozens of other things."

Harry coughed into his fist and pointed over Hannah's shoulder to a wooden door that hadn't been there thirty seconds before hand.

Hannah moved to the door, glancing back to Harry before she opened the door. She was surprised when she found precisely everything she could think of that she would need, everything she listed or thought of was there. Except the samples of course.

"Okay, this room is amazing." Hannah admitted.

"As for samples, I already have that worked out. The donor will remain anonymous, so don't pester me about it. You'll have blood and tissue samples before, during, and after the changes." Harry said.

Hannah turned to Harry with a worried look on her face. "It's going to take me weeks, months likely to learn everything I can." She said. "Some of this stuff I just barely know how to use. I don't even know what to look for. Blood is still blood to me."

Harry held up his hands to try and placate her. "I will supply untainted blood. As far as I know, I have no diseases in me. We can then examine it next to your blood to determine the difference in the blood for the Dragon Pox. We can start slow, I don't expect you to come up with a cure by the end of the year Hannah, but this is a long term project."

She nodded, understanding what Harry was saying. She was sure she could also get her mother to help her on some of the things as well. She just had to keep her studies a secret. She doubted her mother would be happy if she knew she was studying such a highly dangerous substance.

Not even her mother was rated to handle Lycanthrope samples.

"Can I bring Susan here?" she asked. She was excited to show her best friend such a spectacular room. Even if she couldn't tell Susan about being a Horseman, she should at least be able to show her the room.

"No, it's be for the best not to." Harry said. "Plausible deniability after all. I plan to study a number of… questionable branches of magic. Death magic being chief among them, but Dark magic as well. I respect Madam Bones, and Susan is a good person. I'd rather Madam Bones to not find out."

"What? Why would you study Dark Magic?" Hannah asked, turning to face Harry, a shocked look on her face.

"Not just Dark Magic. Dark, Light, Gray, all forms of Magic."

Hannah blinked a moment. "Gray Magic?" she asked. She had never heard of such a thing.

"Gray magic is magic uninfluenced by intent. It does what it does, regardless of your feelings behind it." A training mannequin appeared across the room and Harry's wand whipped from its holster into his right hand. "_Bombarda!"_ He declared, the blasting hex blowing the mannequin up into pieces.

"Light Magic you have to have positive feelings behind it, or protective feelings. This is an area you'll excel at. You'll want to protect your charges, and that intent will charge the Light Magic. Healing magic is often used under this." A new mannequin with a wand appeared. It fired off a stinging hex at Harry. "_Protego!"_ He swiped his wand in a flat line from hip to shoulder to form a shield, absorbing the stinging hex.

"Dark Magic is the opposite. For the full effect, you need to feel darker feelings. Rage and hate being chief among them. You have to want to kill your enemy for them." Harry turned to the mannequin and fired off a harsh crimson spell that seemed to zigzag across the air. It took the mannequin in the chest and Hannah watched as the wood began to slowly reduce down to black ooze like rot.

Her eyes were wide with fear, looking at the passive face Harry had. It terrified her. Not only that he knew such a spell, but that he could so easily use it, even on a training mannequin.

"Most elemental magic sort of straddles the fence of Gray Magic and the other two." Harry said, turning to face her once more. "For example, fire magic can be amplified by passion and other similar emotions."

"What sort of Elemental Magic do you think I would be best at?" Hannah asked as she began to move about the bookshelves, looking over the many tomes.

"I can't answer that." Harry said with a shrug. "I have no idea what Element might fit with Pestilence. For me, I knew that it would be Ice and Wind." It caused his Fire aspect to be the oddity. "Famine will likely be Earth and Water, two things to grow life. War will be Fire at least, with Lightning I believe.

"But Pestilence and Plague… Those don't particularly fit any of the Elements. It could be possible that you will excel at Light Magic with your Mount being Dark Magic. I'm afraid my knowledge of Pestilence is…" Harry shrugged and held up both hands. "Lacking to say the least."

Hannah frowned. "But we can still learn all magic, right?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Certainly. Nothing stops any of us from learning something from every school of magic except time constraints and dedication. I will learn all I can in the short time I'm here on this plane of existence."

Hannah nodded. "I want to focus on being a Healer. But… I might also want to go for a Potion Mastery." She said.

"Personally, I'm going for at least Alchemy." Harry said proudly. He had been learning much about Transmutation from the books that Nicolas Flamel had given him.

"Are you sure I can't show Susan this place?" Hannah asked, taking a book on Healing Spells down from the shelves.

Harry shook his head. "She might see one of us by accident. Either practicing our more questionable arts or worse us practicing as the Horsemen. I have it locked, yes, but sometimes I forget to." He wasn't ashamed to admit it. "And this was where I came after the events of last year, for all I know, she could be here when I need to recover in the future." That would be disastrous to say the least.

Hannah sighed dejectedly. She knew he had a point, but it didn't stop the fact she would be lying to her best friend. Worse, the lies would continue for years "How long will it take for us to get these Artifacts of mine?" she asked, deciding to change the subject.

"You should start feeling some of them soon, now that you've awoken as Pestilence." Harry said. 'And they may come to you in dreams. We may have to also ask Luna Lovegood, the Seer that's meant to help us. That option I want to leave as long as possible though. Her visions are… difficult on her."

He'd give it a month. If Hannah didn't start feeling anything, then they would ask Luna for some direction to the first object.

"Well, what about the other Riders?" Hannah asked. "Shouldn't we get them also?"

"In time, yes." Harry said. "But I need to train you up a bit. Because of last year, I had to make a decision to get the Healer of the group first. Because of that decision, we need to leave War for last. On my own, I could have handled War. But I have to help focus on you first, and I can't watch over you while fighting War, and we will have to fight War. She's going to be a dangerous opponent because we can't kill her, making the fight that much harder."

"And Famine?" Hannah asked.

"Famine I'm still not one hundred percent sure on. War I have a fairly good gut feeling on, but not Famine." Harry admitted.

Famine he needed time to think more on, time he wouldn't have as much of anymore.

Hannah nodded and slowly inhaled and exhaled. "I should probably head down to supper." She said. "People might start to get worried about me if I don't make an appearance.'

Harry nodded and motioned to the door which unlocked itself. "I'll stay up here and study for a while, so it doesn't look like we've been together the whole time. We'll work on building up a closer friendship in time, so our public appearances won't be questioned as much."

Fact of the matter was, at the time Hannah and Harry were only friends. No reason to appear at the same time. He was a better friend with Susan than he was with Hannah. And admittedly, he hated lying to his friend like he was.

Harry watched Hannah go and sat down to get to work on his studies. He had more practice to perform, and he was finally trying to force his way through Lockhart's books.

-_**Scene Break-**_

It was a week since Harry had found Hannah as Pestilence and in that time he had been quite busy, trying to get her up to speed and to where she could research things on her own. Once she was reaffirmed that she could still be a Healer, Hannah took to her role a little more seriously, understanding that the world's diseases were under her command and watch.

It was a hefty role.

In that week, Harry had come down to the very bowels of Hogwarts twice. This would be his third time heading down along corridors that most didn't even knew existed. A very special journal was tucked under his arm as he headed lower.

Finally, he came into a large cavern underneath Hogwarts. Massive support structures held the castle up as much as natural forming pillars of rock where stalagmites and stalactites had formed together over the many, many years.

And in the center of this room was a massive array with a glowing golden orb hanging suspended in the air and spinning. This was the Keystone to Hogwarts' wards.

The Orb sat in the very middle of the array, spinning slowly. Harry estimated it to be as tall as Hagrid and equally as wide. Powerful magic was in that room and Harry felt it running along his skin.

He glanced up to a hole in the roof of the cavern. Though he could not yet see anything, he knew the castle was shifting, subtly so. The full moon approached.

He had been preparing the room, making sure that the runic array beneath the Keystone was cleared of any debris. The wards needed a proper charging, and it was his duty to charge them.

Salazar Slytherin had been the Ward Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His Heirs, even one by Conquest like Harry, were all charged with the same duty to be the Ward Master. And as Ward Master, his duties included charging ALL the wards.

"Millie." Harry called for his House Elf who came in with a small pop. In her hands was a cage with a chicken inside of it. "Thank you Millie."

"Of course Master Harry." Millie said, always willing to be helpful.

Harry inhaled slowly as he stepped towards the cage, taking it from Millie. This would be his first time actually sacrificing something and he wasn't sure how well it would go. He had memories from the previous Riders, even some he didn't want such as human sacrifice.

He was sure he could do it.

He walked the Runic array with the chicken, knowing that the array would draw every last drop out of the chicken, until the carved runes were all filled with blood.

Death Magic had gone into warding Hogwarts, and Harry would charge it just like the rest. Besides, according to Salazar's journal, Balthazar, whoever that was, grew with the power of the wards as well. All Harry knew was Balthazar was also intended to be a defender of Hogwarts, a weapon of last resort.

Harry waited and glanced to the top of the cavern once more. Finally, a hole shifted open, revealing the full moon. It shined like a beacon down upon the orb and slowly it began to slow in its spinning until it came to a full stop.

Harry opened the cage and grabbed the chicken slowly by its body, drawing it from the cage. He set it upon the stone of the Runic array and slowly knelt with it.

Harry gave it a hard blow to the head, stunning the chicken. He then transferred the chicken to his right hand, flicking his knife from his wrist holder. He raised the knife up and brought it down, the sharp steel cutting through quickly.

Harry felt the chicken's body jerk and he was surprised by it, but then again he had memories of headless chickens running around. He clamped his fingers down onto the chicken's body, even as blood spurt out of it. He fought its movements, trying to keep the bird in once place instead of running around, even as the wings flapped and beat at him and the legs kicked.

When he felt no more movements from the bird, Harry let go and stepped back, watching as the blood flowed freely into the runic array, even as most of the blood was drawn from the chicken. It looked like he'd need a bigger sacrifice the next time. The runes weren't quite full, but it would offer a quick charge for the Ward.

He moved the chicken back, knowing Millie would pick it up and take it away to be plucked, cleaned, and prepared for cooking. Slowly, Harry began to pour his magic into the runes, feeling the magic of the array drawing his magic from his body. It was an incredible rush really, and he felt powerful.

But he also knew that it was deceptive. The truth was he was connected to Hogwarts' Wards, even as he charged them.

He drew back and felt exhausted and breathed a little heavily. He moved to slump against a pillar. He then glanced down at himself and frowned.

His clothes were wet with chicken blood and had chicken feathers sticking to him. "Yuck." He said simply before he stood up. "Millie, could you bring me a change of clothes?" he asked his House Elf who still held the cage with the dead bird in it.

Her head bobbed before she popped out. When she came back with a change of clothes, Harry made quick work stripping out of his soiled clothes. He was thankful for Millie's thoughtfulness for bringing a wet rag. He used it to wipe the blood from his arms and chest before he got dressed once more.

"Note to self, don't wear your uniform when beheading a chicken." He said as he adjusted his clothes. "Alright Millie, I'll see you again soon, see if you can't find a Goat to buy." He told her.

"Is don't thinks yous can cut a goatie's head offs Master Harry." Millie said.

"You're probably right.' Harry admitted. "But I'm thinking I can slit its throat to drain the blood, and then you can take the body to the Hogwarts Elves to be cooked for supper." The creature just had to die, and he'd need to get a better knife for his work.

Wouldn't want the thing to suffer because he couldn't make a deep enough cut.

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: The things I research for this story. Bit shorter chapter this time, I sent PMs out to the people I could reply to their review in some way or fashion aside from a thanks.

Hope I answered some questions some of y'all had in this chapter. IT's the first time two Horsemen got to really have a Q/A session you know?

Next chapter, we find the Necromancer

Enjoy.

HBW


	35. Book 2: Chapter 8

_Last Time: We have a QA session between the two Horsemen, Harry and Hannah, Death and Pestilence respectively. Harry also acts as the Ward Master for Hogwarts as Heir Slytherin, charging the Death Wards with the sacrifice of a chicken._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 8

Harry breathed heavily as he faced off against the diminutive Charms Professor. His chest burned, desperately needing oxygen to send to the rest of his body. He could hear the blood pounding in his skull, and it was difficult to think. His body was moving on instinct. His legs and arms burned and ached. Sweat drenched the black tank top, clinging it to his young frame.

His legs tensed as he saw Flitwick's wand come up and begin to go through its swift routine. _Auguamenti _followed up with a _Glacius_ and finished with a _Bombarda. _Flitwick wasn't pulling his punches against the young Potter. And Harry knew that three part chain was only the beginning, that Flitwick would follow up with another chain of six or higher.

He had seen the former Duelist Champion chain sixteen spells together in thirty seconds.

Harry flung himself out of the way of the water spell, not wanting to get hit directly by it. He forced himself to stop at the edge of the large circle, Flitwick's newest training method. He grit his teeth and charged magic to his right hand before spinning and back handing the Ice spell back at Flitwick before dodging the Blasting Hex.

It was a good chain, a dangerous chain really. But Harry could handle it. As long as he kept his area from being iced over with the _Glacius_ then he would be just fine. He couldn't control his footing as well on someone else's ice.

Harry exhaled deeply and took in a deep breath of fresh air. He centered his magic back to his core and held himself in a guarded stance. With the Water coming from where the _Augumenti_ spell slammed into the wall behind him, Harry raised his hands up and held his fingers out at his Professor. Ten lances of Ice formed up around him.

Harry smirked slightly, he remembered a time just a year ago where a single lance would have hurt him to make. Now he could make ten with a slight flex of his power. Flitwick had taken his wand, forcing him to rely on Wandless Magic, but for Harry that was just fine. It just meant he needed to try a little harder.

Harry thrust his hand forward, commanding the lances to launch at the small Charms Professor. With ten spread out over a wide spread area, even Flitwick would have a difficult time dodging them all.

Instead Flickwick chained his sixteen spells together, some Harry could identify, but since the Charms Professor didn't speak during these sessions until they were over, Harry wasn't able to identify all of them. Ten spells came at Harry, the smallness of the circle demanding he bring up some sort of defense to handle it. His movement was being trained to be a last resort, that he was to exert the least bit of movement possible.

And without his wand, traditional magical shields were out of the question. They would blow through the ice walls he could summon as well.

Harry grit his teeth again, knowing what he was about to pull would undoubtedly get him yelled at once they were through. He was still working out the kinks of it and it was always a pain to pull it off. He flexed his magic into the air around him and forced it to spin around bringing it up to powerful speeds in the matter of moments.

A slice laid his bicep open, drawing blood down along his arm. Spells slammed into his barrier of wind and they whipped around him, slamming into the walls all around him. More slices lacerated his skin, cutting him open. One on his forehead caused blood to seep down into his eye, forcing him to close it.

Flitwick stalked up, his wand lowered. "What in the world were you thinking Harry?" He asked in a stern and even voice. "You're all cut up and I have half a mind to not give you any medical attention."

Harry panted as he collapsed back onto the ground. The cuts stung, the salty sweat getting into them. He hissed a bit as he forced himself to sit back up. "Something I've been working on, but… as you can tell…" He showed his bloodied arm, though his chest and legs had their own cuts on them, ripping his clothes. "It's a slow progress."

"You're lucky you didn't slit your own throat!" Flitwick yelled, actually getting angry with him.

Harry looked to Flitwick's hard eyes. The older wizard had trimmed his beard and the hair on his head, making him look more like a formidable champion than a Charm's Professor. He didn't say that even the deepest of cuts he had received out have severed an artery. Not even the one on his bicep which was deepest needed stitches. "I apologize Professor." He said.

"You're still going to attempt to create it, aren't you?" Flitwick asked accusingly.

Harry nodded his head once, his features getting stony. "The Wind is a dangerous tool to have, and I plan to have it." He said softly. He stood up and went to his bag, grabbing the essence of dittany that he had taken to carrying with him. Slowly, he began to rub it into the cuts, wiping his forehead of the blood so he could see. "I can't rely on my Ice to continue carrying me." He said.

He turned to look at Flitwick and he held out both hands. In his right he made an orb of ice and in the left he made a small twister. He then looked to the powers swirling in his hands. "I want to be the strongest Wizard I can be." He said honestly, looking to Flitwick. "I have no real ambition past that. And I know there is more to being the strongest than just magical strength." He allowed the powers to dissipate.

"I want a family someday Professor." Harry admitted. "People I can call a brother or sister, children of my own, a wife." Harry looked to both his hands. "So for them, I need to be the strongest that I can be. Only when I have given my all for them will I be able to say that there was nothing more I could do." He looked again to Flitwick. "So I need to become a strong politician, to change the world to a better place for them. I need to become a strong business man, so that my family wants for nothing. I need to be magically strong so that I can protect my family. I will have enemies Professor. Whether it's from the Duelist Circuit that I'm going into, my political practices, my business practices, or just who I am as Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived. Do you think another Dark Lord won't show up? Do you think they won't see me as a threat? Do you think in my pursuit of learning all I can in magic that I won't make enemies?"

And then there were the enemies that Harry had as the Pale Rider. Harry had to be the very best that he could if he hoped to survive long enough. He had to be beyond the normal Witch or Wizard. He had to find his limitations and then break past them until he could no longer do so. He couldn't sit on his laurels and hope everything would turn out for the best. He couldn't rely on luck to help him through the world. He wouldn't have an answer for everything, but that was fine.

Flitwick looked to Harry and sighed softly. He gently shook his head and took Harry's wand from his pocket, passing it back handle first. "I don't necessarily agree with your paranoia Harry, but I can your point being made. It is a delight helping you along the way, even if some of the things you say or do make me frown." Flitwick looked back up to Harry and his spine straightened. "Remember you goals Harry. Remember who you are doing all of this for. I can tell you genuinely mean to make the best you can for your family."

Harry nodded softly. "I know to look away from the Abyss from time to time Professor, least I become what is inside of it."

Flitwick nodded and inhaled softly. "I already had to put one student down Harry, please don't make me do another." Flitwick left it at that before he turned to leave, his wand flicking out to undo the charm work on the classroom, reverting it to normal.

Harry was left to ponder Flitwick's parting words before he gathered his things and turned to leave, walking with his hands in his pockets.

-_**Scene Break-**_

If there was a word that could describe Hannah Abbot, it was obstinate. Even before loyalty and hardworking, she was obstinate. When she set her eyes on a goal, she would work at it until she had that goal in hand. And she had already set her sights on a goal, and it worked well with her feeling of loyalty.

Now it was just a matter of getting it to pan out.

Unfortunately, the biggest obstacle in her path was just as obstinate as she was and a great deal more cunning. Getting Harry Potter himself to budge on something would be an exercise in something close to futility. But she was sure she could manage. She just had to make him see that she had a fair point after all.

But at the same time, she might be breaking the loyalty of a friend and that was… it was conflicting. She paced in the halls a bit, taking a bit of private time to herself. She gave a long drawn out groan. How did Harry stay so composed? Surely he had thoughts like this where he wasn't sure what to do, yet he always stayed as cool as a cucumber.

She paused and lightly thumped her head against the brick wall. "Think Hannah." She said softly.

"Well hello Ms. Abbot!" A jovial voice called out and Hannah turned to see the Fat Friar, her House's ghost floating down the hallway. "So splendid to see you." He said, pausing before her.

"It's good to see you as well Friar." She said politely.

"You look troubled, is there something I could perhaps help with?" He asked, floating a little closer.

Hannah ran her hands over her blonde hair and pulled lightly at the pigtails she usually kept her hair in. "I'm conflicted." She said. "On one hand, a friend of mine wants to keep something secret from another friend of mine and I don't want to keep secrets from them. On the other hand, I know the other friend has a secret that they have, whether they know about it or not, and I know the first friend can help and I just don't know how to get them together so that I don't have to keep secrets from my friends and so that my friend can get help with something." As vague as it was, she had to vent slightly.

The Friar looked surprised a moment. "Secrets aren't good among friends Ms. Abbot." He said. "If Friend A wants to keep something from Friend B, there must be a good reason why. If there isn't, I don't see the reason to keep such a secret. But telling Friend B might hurt the trust of Friend A, so I can see why your Hufflepuff mind is in confliction." He placed his hand on his chin. "But if Friend A can help Friend B with something that Friend B might not know about, then surely Friend A can forgive you for breaking their trust. But if Friend B is aware, and has an inkling that you may be aware of their secret, then Friend B might feel as though you are breaking their trust by telling someone else. Quite the quandary you have Ms. Abbot." He said.

"On one hand, I'm breaking the trust of one, possibly two friends, on the other I'm keeping secrets from my friends." Hannah said. Either way, it felt like a fist was grabbing her stomach. "And the first friend doesn't forgive easily." She added. She had been brought up to speed with what was happening between Harry and Sirius Black.

"Quite the quandary indeed." The Friar said and stroked his chin more. He felt obligated to help one of his charges, even if it was just to offer some advice. But if he gave bad advice, he would never forgive himself either. "And how do these friends feel about you?'

"Well, one I've known just about forever." She said honestly.

"Ms. Bones then." The Friar said and stroked his chin. "I think, she would at the very least forgive you for telling her secret, if she's aware of it, especially if you are trying to get her help in regards to the secret. But the other friend, if they don't forgive easily, they may not agree with your sentiment that you wanted to share a secret with your best friend. This could, of course, cause confliction."

"I'd rather not lose them as a friend." Hannah said quickly. Harry was helping her with the whole Pestilence thing. If he no longer trusted her or considered her a friend, she was forced into a situation where it was sink or swim and she'd likely sink fast. At least with Harry, it was like she had a floatation device to help keep her afloat, or to grab ahold of if she was feeling like she was sinking.

The Friar inhaled softly, even if he no longer needed to breathe. "Well, I can offer only one solution, and I don't quite like it myself. You let Ms. Bones in on the secret, and you explain to Friend A that you think they can help her." He said. "If they are truly your friend, they will understand."

That was why Hannah liked the Friar. He was honest to a fault, and he was always willing to help out. Sir Nicholas, now often called Headless Nick after his Ghostly head was severed from his shoulders, was friendly enough and honest, but the Friar was more down to earth than Nick.

"Thanks Friar." Hannah said and offered a brilliant smile before turning on her heel and taking off at a brief run, she had something important to do.

Getting Susan to go to the Room of Requirements would be a simple task. All she had to do was sound excited about showing Susan something and the redhead would likely be willing to come with just to see it, or shut Hannah up. But getting Harry to listen would be difficult. All she could do was hope he would listen to her, to give her a chance to explain.

She quickly entered the Common Room, looking for Susan. She found her friend sitting on a sofa, writing in the journal she had for the past few weeks. Looked like she was doing homework and using the journal as a way to draft the work first. "Sue!" Hannah said, moving over to her friend. "I got something you need to see!" she said, bouncing on her heels a little bit.

She knew she was flushed from the brief run, and she couldn't help but radiate with a bit of happiness. She could have the best of both worlds, she just knew it. She could have Harry's guidance for her work as Pestilence and she could still have her best friend.

Susan looked up to Hannah and the blonde could see a bit of annoyance in the redhead's eyes. Still, Susan offered a smile and tucked their essay assignment into the center of her journal and tucked it into her bag. "Alright Han." She said pleasantly.

"It can wait if you need to." Hannah said, not wanting to upset her friend. They had been through a lot together.

Susan shook her head. "It's okay, I was just on a roll with the Essay for Professor Lupin. He's a good replacement, especially better than Binns. His work is just challenging."

Hannah nodded as she led the way out of the Common Room. "Yeah, I've seen him looking towards Harry at meal times though, like he wants to approach him or something. You think they might know each other?"

"Maybe." Susan said with a slightly shrug. "We could ask your mom or Auntie if they know anything about Professor Lupin, but they might be younger than him."

"He does look rather rough, doesn't he?" Hannah asked. "Think it might have something to do with why he was absent those days?"

"It could." The redhead said. "But he could have just went down to Hogsmeade for the day or something, I heard from some upper years that he didn't have classes those days at all. Maybe he needed a break."

"Ooh, maybe he's got a girlfriend out of the school." Hannah said with a slight grin.

Susan rolled her eyes and lightly popped her friend on the back of the head with her hand. "So where are we going?" she asked.

"Seventh Floor." Hannah said confidently. She headed to the Grand Staircase and began to lead the way up, pausing when the staircases felt like moving and just generally making sure they could get up to the seventh floor as quickly as possible.

"I really hate these stairs." Susan said as they cleared the landing for the Seventh floor. "Can you believe there's rumors that Harry runs these daily?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." Hannah said. "Did you hear how he climbed the castle last year? Even ignored the Headmaster and JUMPED from the top." She said

Susan rolled her eyes. "Of course I heard Han. You'd have to be deaf to not hear the rumors going around on that one for weeks. I'd have to not know you." She said playfully.

It was Hannah's turn to roll her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." She said. "I like the gossip and rumor mill. I can't help if it's exciting. Think Harry will do it again?"

"Doubtful, I don't even think he meant to show off with that one. It's like he will do what he wants, whether he's in the spotlight or in the background." Susan said thoughtfully. "I heard Harry hasn't gone to a single one of Lockhart's classes."

"Or the detentions that Lockhart gives him." Hannah said grinning. "I'm willing to bet Lockhart will try something soon."

Susan shook her head. "No bet. That pompous idiot is going to get himself hurt again if he tries to mess with Harry. You remember what happened in Flourish and Blott's."

Hannah nodded and soon found the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. Across from it was the door to the Room of Requirement, indicating someone was likely inside and hadn't sealed in behind them. Inhaling softly, she headed to the door. She just had to hope that Harry wasn't in Death regalia inside.

She inhaled a bit and exhaled slowly. She could do this. She would handle it if Harry was in Death Regalia. Then she could try again, maybe explaining to Harry why she brought Susan. But she needed Susan there, Harry could probably sense it better than she could explain it.

She was nervous. More nervous than she had been in a long time, and no doubt Susan could tell. If there was anyone that knew her tells, it would be Susan. Still, she took the knob of the door and turned it, pushing the door open.

Inside, sitting in a comfortable looking arm chair with a book was Harry. His eyes flicked up over his glasses as he heard the door open and he paused a moment. He looked up fully, seeing Susan looking around with a bit of wonder and Hannah noticed the way his eyes sharpened as he looked to Hannah's blue eyes. "Hannah…" He said with a slight tightness to his tone.

Hannah felt her heart thumping heavily in her chest. He was angry. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew he was angry. That single word conveyed all he felt towards her at the moment. She felt like a fat brown rabbit caught in the gaze of hungry wolf. The slightest little twitch and it was done.

She backed up into the door, closing it. She could see the frost seeping away from Harry. "Let me explain!" she cried out, scared. She didn't know if she was looking at Harry Potter or at the Pale Rider of the Apocalypse, but she desperately didn't want to be caught in that gaze again. She wasn't a brave Gryffindor. She was a loyal Hufflepuff

Harry set his book to the side on a little side table beside the arm chair. He leaned back in his seat and Hannah felt as though she was looking at some Lord of a House. Her father never did this, but her grandfather had. It still sent shivers down Hannah's spine. The way his posture seemed to exude an all-encompassing presence.

"Look, I think Susan can benefit from your help like me." Hannah said, catching the attention of her friend and Harry. "She's got abilities like yours, I've seen her do it in her sleep. I don't think she even knows she's doing it Harry, I just don't want her to be hurt."

"Hannah?" Susan asked. "What are you talking about?" She stepped forward, curious as to what her friend was going on about. Harry's attention seemed piqued by what the blonde was saying.

Hannah breathed a little easier as Harry didn't seem to be weighing her anymore. Sweet merciful Merlin and Morgana, it had been just hard to breathe and speak with Harry looking at her like that. How did he do it? "I've… I've seen her bring things to her in her sleep, summon things even. Mostly just small animals, rodents and birds." Hannah swallowed a moment. "Sometimes they look like a living, breathing animal, sometimes they look all skeletal." Hannah noticed her friend's eyes widen in fear.

Harry however, his eyes were calculating.

Harry rose up from his seat and walked towards Susan. "Susan…" Harry said cupping her cheeks with both hands. "I need you to look at me, look into my eyes." Harry said as he shifted his thumbs to be against the bone of her eye sockets. "Relax, this won't hurt Susan. Just look at me." He said.

There, just beyond those blue eyes was a well of familiar power. It was… it was empowering, exhilarating, massive. "Dust... How did we miss this?" Harry asked his familiar crow. The crow gave a loud caw, throwing out its wings. "Yes, you're likely right… It's been dormant. We felt glimpses, but because it was dormant, not getting a proper outlet…"

Harry smiled as he shifted away to his arm chair. He sat back down once more and had the Room summon chairs under the girls so they were sitting down. The door then vanished. He needed to have a serious conversation with both Hufflepuffs. "Hannah, I could kiss you right now." He leaned in, still looking directly at Susan. "You found my necromancer."

Susan bolted to her feet. "What?!" she demanded loudly, panicky really.

"Susan, sit down." Harry said evenly, wanting to try and get through to the Hufflepuff, to try and get through this logically.

"I can't be a Necromancer! I don't feel evil, I don't raise the dead, and I don't do anything illegal!" she said, grabbing her red hair and pulling slightly. "You're both barmy." She said, moving towards where the door was.

"Sit down Susan." Harry said, standing up slowly.

"Open the room Harry." Susan said, turning to face the dark haired boy. "I'm leaving, you two need obviously thought it would be a real funny joke, but I'm not laughing."

"sit down!" Harry barked out, flaring his power up and pointing to the chair. The redhead, frightened, move to sit back down, shaking slightly as she pulled her legs up to her chest.

Harry sat back down himself and leaned in slightly. "Now then Susan, let's talk this through rationally, logically." He said. "We're not going to be frantic, and we're not going to be emotional. I'm going to respect your decision if you make it with logic." Harry said.

"What decision is there to be had?" Susan asked.

Harry sighed softly. This likely wasn't going to go very well, but he had to at least try after all. "Whether you like it or not, fact of the matter is you are a Necromancer. Yes, I can tell. I'm rather attuned to Death Magic myself." He said.

"I'm not evil!" Susan said, curling up tighter.

"No, you're not. Which makes you all the more valuable." Harry said bluntly. "Necromancy and Death Magic have both obtained an evil reputation due to the likes of Grindelwald and Voldemort. But Necromancy, in and of itself, is not Evil. No magic is." Harry said watching Susan as she stared at him, tears threatening to fall from the crystal blue eyes.

"When you're raising small animals, like rodents and probably birds, that's not evil." Harry said. "That's your power seeking an outlet and taking it. And it will get worse if you don't block it, or train it."

"Block it then." Susan said almost immediately.

"Stop thinking with your emotions." Harry said. "Blocks are never permanent, they are only there until you gain control or until they break irreparably." He said. Whether magical or emotional, blocks weren't intended for a long time. Five or ten years tops. Just long enough for enough training and growth to get it under control.

"On one hand, I can block it." He said. With the help of Dust, it wouldn't be impossible after all. "You can go about being a normal girl for the next five, maybe ten years. Likely five or less given how powerful you are and will become. You might make it to seventh year, maybe even through it. Blocks are… tricky.

"On the other hand, I can help you harness it and train your powers. As it is Susan, you're only growing stronger by subconsciously holding your Necromancy back. It keeps searching for an escape, over and over. And like a dam breaking and water surging forth, it keeps finding it. You likely wake up with dead animals in your bed, have for a while and have been pushing these powers even further down, hoping and praying they would go away, that you'd no longer find the animals in your bed. You rebuild the dam, only for the Necromancy to get stronger and break it once more." Harry watched the redhead. He needed to help her, he needed her on his side of things.

"But it's illegal to practice-"

"Which is why we won't practice it here in Great Britain." Harry said. "We'll study it, study the rituals and spells associated with Necromancy and go to France or Germany for a week or two during the Summer Holidays and practice it there. France just requires you to register as a Necromancer of the Magistrate. Germany not even that. And we will talk to your Aunt about this." He added. "You both must understand, this isn't something that will go away. Not in five years, not in ten years, not in twenty or thirty. And while we may be toeing the line of the law, we won't be purposely breaking it."

"Not breaking it?!" Susan asked, standing up again. "You're talking about studying magic where we have to kill someone!"

Harry stood up once more. "Sit down!" he barked out. He may lose both Hannah and Susan as a friend, but her statement made him angry. "You ignorant, foolish bigoted little girl!" She had struck a nerve, despite Dust cawing for him to calm himself. "Death Magic is a lot more than what you claim. With a cut on my hand, I could bring down the Wards of Hogwarts itself. With a cut on my hand, I could rip apart the Ministry of Magic's wards.

"I could raise a two hundred year old corpse with a chicken, a four hundred year old corpse with a goat." Harry said, pinning Susan with a glare. "I would be able to learn about people, events, that have taken place hundreds of years ago that there is no record of. It is the likes of Grindelwald and Voldemort making Inferi, a hideous and disgusting pale copy of an actual necromantic spell, that gives Necromancy a disgusting name. You are just like the sheep of this country that run it. I say Necromancy, and you immediately associate it with Human Sacrifice. You have no fathomable idea of what Necromancy is, and being a Necromancer is rare.

"Voldemort could only wish he was a Necromancer with your powers. He dabbled in the Death Arts, but would never attain true understanding and Mastery of them like you stand to be capable of." Harry heard Dust's caw, felt the ice creeping up along his pants leg, but he was still going. "Even I, as attuned to Death Magic as I am," A statement only he and possible Hannah would fully understand. "I cannot compare to your strength as a Necromancer. There will be things you can do that will leave the common masses in awe. You could probably raise a thousand year old corpse with a goat.

"But because of the actions of two men that have left this country quivering in fear, you are bigoted towards a school of Magic that has no feelings one way or the other. Imagine the lack of criminals we might have if Death Magic is legal in this country, to be monitored as it is in France. Imagine how many people with an Inheritance that they stand to lose on the whims of some Ministry fool and then imagine those problems disappearing as the corpse can be raised with its personality and memories intact. The Dead do not lie Ms. Bones. And I plan to revolutionize the laws regarding Death Magic, among many more in this country that are outdated."

Harry waved his hand at the wall, a door appearing. "Leave if you want, go back to your ignorance and naiveté." He then turned away and went to a bookshelf, breaking the ice away from his feet. He grabbed a book on Death Magic and sat down to read and study. He desperately wanted someone at his side to study with, someone to keep him from straying from a very narrow path.

But he would not have such ignorance as the Necromancer he needed at his side, to help him help the Shades.

He didn't bother to look up as he noticed Susan stand up. He did however look up, his emerald green eyes staring coolly at the girl when she stepped closer to him.

Susan watched Harry, staring into the emerald eyes. It sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps she had reacted badly, not understanding what Harry was talking about. "Okay." She whispered softly. "Where do we begin?"

"There is no going back if you decide to go down this path." Harry said. "Once the blinders have been ripped off, you will not be able to not see the things you have seen."

Susan inhaled, gathering the courage she could gather in the face of the icy fortress that was Harry Potter. "Where do we begin?" she asked a little more confidently and evenly.

Harry smiled just slightly.

-**End Chapter-**


	36. Book 2: Chapter 9

_Last Time: The Necromancer that Harry felt has been found in the form of Susan Bones, and though she was first in denial, she has agreed to join with Harry in learning Necromancy._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 9

"Okay, first rule of Necromancy is we don't raise anything on Halloween. And with the state of the Veil between this world and the world of the Dead, I'd say we don't raise anything from a week before Halloween and a week after." Harry said as he began to move about the bookshelf, pulling down several books on beginning necromancy and the rituals associated with them.

"How come?" Susan asked as she jotted things down in the leather bound journal she had gotten from the dorm room. She had yanked out the notes she made on Lupin's essay, starting fresh.

"Remember the creature that attacked at the end of last year?" Harry asked, turning to Susan. "That was a creature from Beyond the Veil of Death, in the Realm of Dead. It's neither alive, nor dead. Halloween is when the Veil is at its thinnest, and weaker creatures can slip through holes or cracks. Now burrowing through the Veil to summon a soul from Beyond, well… You invite them to come through and take command of the individual you're trying to Raise. Now if you were to make a Golem or something out of parts, that's one thing. Just… don't raise anything."

Susan jotted the notes down. She'd have to look into a locking charm or something to protect the journal, to keep others from peeking inside of it.

"Rule two of Necromancy, we don't raise those that have been murdered, not for a very, very long time." Harry said. "Murdered souls will come back and do everything in their power to get revenge on their killer. They will break through the barrier you put in place to keep the zombie in, and they will go on a rampage. Yes, we can kill them with fire, but that's beside the point." Harry explained.

Susan glanced up, a bit of sadness in her eyes. "I won't be able to raise my parents then." She said softly.

Harry shook his head. "No, you won't. In theory, you could. But if their murderer is still out there, and there's a possibility that he is, they will go after him, even at the cost of going through you.' Harry said softly. "More people have died raising a murderous zombie than anything else regarding Necromancy and the animation spells with it."

Susan nodded and took a moment before she continued jotting her notes down. "I had hoped, you know?" she said softly. "I thought that maybe… just maybe I could raise my parents, sit down and talk with them for a bit."

Harry nodded. "I understand. I wish I could do the same with my parents, but I don't want to see them torturing themselves as they go on a rampage, killing whoever gets in their way. It's probably for the best. While you and I could raise the corpse to look like a human, act like a human, move like a human, it is still a corpse and it will begin to decay. There is no magic in existence that can bring the dead back to life, not if they are truly dead. There is magic to bring someone from the brink of death back to the world of the living, but that is something else entirely."

Susan nodded and wiped her eyes a little bit of the tears. She wouldn't cry. She had already mourned the death of her parents when she was younger, they would want her to be strong.

"Last major rule, we can't bring back the cremated." Harry explained. "Fire is… considered a Pure Element. While there's no taint in raising the dead, they are still beings of darkness and cold. So fire is very useful to know. I'd get a powerful fire spell in your arsenal, you never know when it can come in handy."

Susan nodded, jotting it down. "Okay, so they have an inherent weakness to fire." She said as she glanced up. She looked to Hannah who was working in a lab set up, all sorts of safety measures on her form as she worked with what looked like blood. "I have a question, not regarding the whole… Necromancy stuff. Not entirely."

Harry nodded and sat down, watching the redhead. "Go ahead." He said.

"Why did Hannah bring me to you? No offense, but… you two barely know each other. I doubt you'd so simply tell her that you practice Necromancy, not without a good reason.' Susan said, looking to Harry, staring into those emerald eyes.

Harry made a small sound in his mouth, debating on if he should tell Susan. On one hand, she could freak out again and bolt. On the other hand, keeping such a secret from her could be hazardous in the future and she would need to understand. He would be working very close with the Hufflepuff second year.

He heaved a sigh before he waved a hand and sealed the room once more. "Now, please listen Susan. This isn't going to be something that's easily digestible, but I'm going to say it anyways. There's a reason why I'm knowledgeable in Death Magic, why I consider it imperative that I get knowledgeable in Death Magic.

"What I'm about to show you is only know to a few others. Hannah, Luna Lovegood, the Sorting Hat, and a few select members of the Goblin Nation. I am begging you for your trust with this. You cannot tell anyone, not your Aunt, not your family, not your friends. No one can know this."

Susan nodded inhaling softly. She steeled herself and reigned her emotions in once more, she couldn't panic again. Seeing Harry's anger once was enough.

Harry flared his Deathly Aura up and his features began to turn pale. His eyes sunk and soon his flesh seemed translucent. He reached for the Shadow Cowl that he always wore, pulling it up over his head and over his face. His hands turned skeletal as he stood up. "I am not just Harry James Potter, Scion of Houses Black and Potter." Harry said, his voice coming out a deathly rattle. "I am Death, Rider of the Pale Steed Despair, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

"Hannah is one of my three contemporaries." Harry said, motioning to the blonde. "She is Pestilence, Rider of the White Steed. The other two are War and Famine, Riders of the Red and Black Steed respectively. I haven't found our lost Sister and Brother, but I will. They are here at Hogwarts."

Susan breathed a little harder, her eyes wide. She was trying not to panic, she couldn't panic about this. "You… you fought with Dumbledore last year."

Harry lowered his Deathly Aura and lowered the cowl. "Yes, and I was more severely injured than I let on. I should have died last year, it was pure luck that I did not."

"Which is why I'm here." Hannah said softly. "I'm supposed to be a Healer for the group." She said a bit proudly. "And because of my unique abilities as Pestilence, Harry has me working on a few side projects that are… Well… dangerous and questionable.' She admitted

"Like curing the Lycanthropy disease." Harry said.

Susan sat back in her chair, staring down at her notes on the three big rules of Necromancy. She just needed a moment to digest everything, it wasn't easy. She had to keep from freaking out, she had to keep from freaking out. She breathed a little heavier, focusing on her breathing for a moment. This was huge, much bigger than she had anticipated.

"You are a boy of many, many secrets." Susan said after a moment.

Harry chuckled softly. "You have no idea."

-_**Scene Break-**_

Halloween saw Harry sitting atop the tallest tower of Hogwarts. Unlike the prior year, he didn't have the Harvester with him, even if he wore his parachute. He had been having a bad feeling all day again, like something was going to happen.

In truth, Harry couldn't have the Harvester with him. It would raise questions, especially among the likes of Dumbledore and those that had seen his battle just months prior. It was, after all, quite the noticeable weapon.

So Harry merely sat there, thinking and watching as the sun began to dip down beyond the Horizon. He thought of the events going on. Headless Nick's induction into the Headless Hunt, celebrating his Death Day, the feast of course at Halloween with another ball.

And here he was, moping again. It was enough to bring a caw from Dust. He reached up and gently stroked the bird's chest.

Being fair though, after he had sliced the flap of skin holding Nick's head to his body, the Ghost had requested that Harry make himself scarce on his Death Day and the induction to the Headless Hunt. That many Ghosts in a single location, all of them knowing who Harry was… It would be a madhouse. Besides, Harry wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold his power at bay. That many ghosts… all with power that he could, as the Pale Rider, feast upon…

The image alone was tantalizing.

"I know." He told the crow as it cawed again. Once more, he had not been able to go visit his parents' grave. He knew where Godric's Hallow was, he knew where they were buried. He just couldn't go there. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face the cold, unfeeling tombstones that held who were undoubtedly going to be very loving people.

He brought his knees to his chest and placed his chin atop them. He wished he had the problems of other students. Overbearing parents, siblings that cast a great shadow, or even having to be a role model to siblings. He had his own fair share of problems, many of them pressing. But he wished that, just once, he could have an honest to goodness normal problem sometimes.

He gave a gentle snort as he rose to his feet. "I wouldn't know what to do with normal." He said. He then turned on his heel and headed back inside, climbing down effortlessly. He decided he'd head to the kitchens. It was a little later and the feast would undoubtedly be letting out.

However, he paused as he heard something. _"Rip… tear… kill!"_

He bolted after the voice, trying to find where it came from, flying down the stairs as he ran. He eventually came to the top of the stairs that led to the Grand Staircase and what he saw made him pause, even as he heard footsteps coming from the Great Hall.

Mrs. Noris was hanging by her tail from one of the torch scones, stiff as a board. A message in crimson letters was written underneath it.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir beware." Malfoy drawled from the crowd, smirking a bit. Harry barely paid any attention to the foolish Malfoy Scion. "You'll be next Mudbloods, Slytherin's Heir will cleanse Hogwarts."

"And consider my pet peeved." Harry said, turning from his examination of the cat.

"Make way, make way." Filch said, pushing past the students. "What's going on… " He paused as he looked from Harry to Mrs. Noris. "Precious…" he whispered, shuffling forward. He turned on Harry, a fire in the old man's eyes as he grabbed the front of Harry's cloak. "What did you do to my cat boy?! I'll kill you for this!" He actually managed to raise Harry off his feet.

"Argus!" Came the bellowing shout from Dumbledore. "You can't go off threatening the students Argus."

"He's murdered my cat!" Filch shouted, refusing to budge and release Harry from the tight grip.

Dumbledore stepped up, his wand coming to his hand. He waved it over Mrs. Noris quickly. "She's not dead Argus, merely petrified."

"Ah, pity I wasn't here, I know just the counter-curse to keep it from happening." Lockhart said, adding his two Knuts to it that were unwanted.

Harry pinned the pompous blonde with a glare. "Do shut up if you have nothing substantial to add to the conversation. It wasn't done by a curse."

"Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, looking to Harry. That was quite the damning phrase to make. It even seemed to shock Argus into dropping Harry.

Harry smoothed out his clothes and adjusted his tie to be proper once more. He inhaled softly before giving a glare at Lockhart. "Any half decently trained duelist can feel spell residue in the air, and a curse capable of petrification will leave a heavy residue like a film of dirt over things."

Flitwick ambled over. "He's right Albus, I've been trying to get Mr. Potter ready for the dueling circuit this coming summer."

Harry glanced over at Mrs. Noris once more. "It wasn't done by a potion. Most potions are too… sensitive to work properly on an animal. Especially one as complex as petrifying her while keeping her alive. It would take quite a while to brew, and there would be difficulty getting the ingredients correct. There hasn't been a string of missing or dead cats, so that tells me this wasn't a potion being done, not even the start of one."

"Then what do you say would do it Potter?" Malfoy asked with a sneer.

"Creature." Harry said, squatting down to touch the ground. "But… the only two I can think of that petrify out right… They can't be the culprits." He said and tapped his chin.

"And since when have you had such knowledge of Magical Creatures?" Someone asked, Harry didn't bother pinpointing the voice.

"Please. I'm Scion of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. We've been Merchants since the Roman Empire, and our current leading venture that brings the most profit is Creature Parts and has been for the past two hundred and seventy four years. I own dragon reserves, acromantula colonies, herds of unicorns and that's just our most known. I have three sphinxes, twenty seven Chimera, eight hydra, a rookery of Griffins." Harry turned to face everyone. "I know my magical creatures. I know the going price of an adult male dragon heartstring, I know the going price of a fresh unicorn horn, I know the properties of everything that my handlers have to deal with on a daily basis.

"The only two known creatures capable of outright petrification, is a Cockatrice and a Gorgon. This," He waved to Mrs. Noris. "Is neither. A Cockatrice would have taken it away to eat it, and would have left a great deal many feathers in the corridors. A Gorgon would have set the cat in some sort of artistic pose."

A cat hanging from the scone wasn't artistic enough for a Gorgon.

"I want to see some punishment!" Filch shouted. "I demand to know who did this!"

'As do I." Harry said, turning to face the wall once more. "Enemies of the Heir? This is an attack on me." He turned on his heel. "As Heir to Salazar Slytherin by Rite of Conquest, I demand to know who is claiming my title!" he shouted, invoking powerful magic. It was magic that would make the pretender of his title come forward, come forward and face him for the title.

Yet no one stepped forward. No one moved to step forward. It was maddening. He clicked his tongue.

Dumbledore stepped forward and placed his hand on Filch's shoulder. "Argus, it is a reversible condition. Pomona tells me that we have a fine batch of Mandrakes, and once they're fully grown Poppy can stew them and whip up a potion to cure Mrs. Noris." The Healer stepped forward and nodded her head.

"No need." Harry said, touching the red words and smearing them between his fingers. It was sticky, tacky like dried blood. It wasn't that old. "One of my greenhouses in Italy had a batch of Mandrakes this past summer. I will send for a crate." He said.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "You will be compensated Mr. Potter." He said. Mandrakes weren't a necessarily cheap potion ingredient, they took a while to fully grow. But they were necessary for a situation like this.

"No, don't worry about it. All I ask is you don't impede my investigation into this false Heir." Harry said, stalking off, the students parting for the cold Ravenclaw.

"Students, return to your dormitories." Dumbledore said loudly, and watched the students begin to shuffle off.

Flitwick looked to the hanging cat a moment before his wand flicked out. He cut the scone from the wall and carefully levitated the cat to Filch's hands. "Mr. Potter has a unique set of skills." Flitwick said softly. "But he is right, at least about the Spell Residue."

Dumbledore nodded. "I know." He said. "And I'm sure Poppy would have corrected him about the potions if he was wrong."

Flitwick nodded. "I will speak with some of the Goblin Nation, find if they know of a creature that can cause Petrification like this. I have no doubt Mr. Potter was correct in that a creature of some sort did this."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "And I will ask Hagrid to find out what he may know." The Headmaster doubted the gentle man would know, but he had to try.

Harry didn't return to the Ravenclaw dorm. Instead, he went towards Godric's study, offering the passphrase for the Portrait before he slipped inside.

He began to pace, walking back and forth. Twenty seven steps across the room, turn, another twenty seven steps. To pace between the other two walls it was twenty nine steps. "This is maddening." He said, talking more to himself really than Dust who sat on Godric's desk.

He supposed the venom of certain breeds of wyverns, like the Sumerian Gold, could cause the petrification process. But Venom like that was a highly regulated substance. No student at Hogwarts would have the clearance to be able to get ahold of the venom through any means. Even Harry wouldn't be able to get it, and he owned a few of the wyverns with that venom.

And it certainly wasn't a wyvern at Hogwarts. The lack of destruction, the lack of screaming and roaring, it was all a good indicator that it wasn't a wyvern at Hogwarts. It had to be something that was capable of some form of stealth.

He doubted it was from a creature bite anyways. Mrs. Noris didn't seem to have any teeth marks on her. So unless a student force fed the cat some sort of venom of some sort of creature that he didn't know about… venom was very likely out.

"This is maddening!" he shouted, sweeping the scrolls from the top of the desk and sitting down. He grabbed some fresh parchment and an inkwell, having brought a few supplies into the room.

The first letter, he prepared for his Italy greenhouses, ordered a batch of the mandrakes. They didn't need more than a half dozen or so, just for future proofing. He knew someone would either bring it themselves or send it through Gringotts, so Harry knew it would take about a month before it got there.

The other letters, he prepared one for each of his more exotic reserves. Dragons, Acromantula, even Unicorns were not the ones that did this. But his other more exotic creatures might have, and they were on reserves together, if they weren't hostile towards one another.

Oddly, wyverns could be kept with Quetzacotl in the Southern Americas. Hydra had to be kept separate from everything else except the Gorgons and Chimera and they were all on a small Greek island from when the Romans conquered. It was the only part of Greece that Harry would ever visit, and that was because of the heavy wards placed on it.

The Cockatrice was left alone in a cave. They used a Mundane anesthesia in the cave in gas form to force it to sleep when they needed to harvest feathers from it.

He'd send these letters via Gringotts. Though, at some point, he needed to go check on each reserve. Maybe if he could get some time during the summer. Surely the Chess tournament and the Dueling Tournament wouldn't take his entire summer.

He'd speak with Rotgut about it. He had to get a better feel for everything and see these creatures up close. Of course, certain precautions would be taken.

_-__**Scene Break-**_

Life did not quite return to normal over the next few days. With Harry's outburst as being the Heir of Slytherin, people began to give him an even wider berth than before. About the only ones that didn't seem to be bothered by his title were Ron, Hermione, the Twins, Millicent, Daphne, Susan, Hannah, and Luna.

Everyone else either held him at arm's length, regarded him with open suspicion, or in a few rather stupid cases thought he was actually the perpetrator to what happened to Mrs. Noris.

Harry caught Filch walking along the corridor where she had been petrified, as though he'd be able to find out who did it. He didn't blame the man for wanting to know what had happened to his cat.

Harry had already sent each letter, along with the courier fee, through Gringotts. He was hoping he'd get a swift reply from each of the reserves. There was another thing he thought about in regards to the two creatures he mentioned. Both would have turned Mrs. Noris to stone.

It was like she was in the middle of Rigor Mortis, her body not responding to any movements.

At the moment, he was working through all the genealogy reports that he had gotten from Gringotts. It turned out that the Founders Heirs had been together before, giving Harry an idea for who Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were.

Unfortunately, Gryffindor's heir for that line died out, meaning the title of Heir went to another of Godric Gryffindor's line, and there were a lot.

As Harry feared, Godric was the typical Norseman before he settled down with the other Founders to create Hogwarts. What that meant was Godric pillaged, plundered, and not just villages. Harry had already gone through six defunct lines from Godric in his pursuit of an heir. And it was likely this promiscuous life style that made people say that Godric Gryffindor was born at Godric's Hallow.

After all, not many people wanted to admit that the Founder of the school where they sent their children had sex with likely over a hundred different women.

Personally, Harry didn't care. It was the man's culture before he came to the British Isles. He was sure if he went back just a few centuries, he'd find a few of his own relatives still doing things of Roman Culture.

But so focused he was on the reports, he never noticed a pair of eyes on him from across the Great Hall. Watching, weighing, and determining, the honey colored eyed never wavered. Eventually a young Slytherin girl stood up from her bench and began to walk over.

More than a few eyes moved to her as she passed by her fellow Slytherins and moved to the front of the Great Hall. Such an action would likely better come from one of the Gryffindors than from a Slytherin such as herself, but ambition sometimes called for bravery and boldness.

She could even feel the weight of the staff's gaze on her, a clenching in her stomach as she approached the Ravenclaw table, giving the table of Red and Gold as wide a berth as she could. "Heir Potter." She greeted, her voice even and her poise confident.

Then those emerald green eyes swept to her eyes and her breathing hitched just slightly, there was an intenseness to those eyes.

Harry looked to the dark haired Slytherin First Year. He rose to his feet slowly and stepped from the bench, facing her. There was an intenseness to her eyes, but he could also see past the façade and see the unease. He saw it more and more when he looked someone in their eyes. "And… you are?" Harry asked politely.

He guessed it was an Heiress, or at least second born of a very important family. She addressed him by his title after all, despite the informal situation of the Great Hall.

"Heiress Vega LeStrange." The dark haired girl said. "We are distantly related Heir Potter." She said, offering a hand.

"Heiress LeStrange." Harry said, raising the offered hand and brushing his lips across the backs of her knuckles. "LeStrange as in…?" He trailed off, not exactly sure how taboo the name Bellatrix was with the girl.

"My father's cousin's wife." She said, a tic working in her jaw. "I assure you, the rest of the LeStrange family was mortified of what she did and has already cut ties with her, her husband, and her husband's brother. While the LeStrange Family has a difference of opinion with the Longbottom Family, they are still a Noble Pureblooded family. To so blatantly assault their Head of House and his wife, disgusting." Vega said.

Harry regarded the young woman for a while. While perhaps not the answer he had sought, it was acceptable. The House LeStrange condemned the actions of a few. "What may I help you with Heiress LeStrange?" he asked.

A faint blush spilled over her face and she looked away a moment. Harry saw the tic work in the girl's jaw again. This was a prideful girl that wasn't liking what she was going to ask for. In some way, Harry found it amusing and he waited patiently, tucking his arms at the small of his back.

Finally, she turned to him once more and inhaled. No doubt she wished he had sat at the back where she wasn't the center of attention. But Harry wouldn't be changing his seating arrangements any time soon. He could better hear the staff from the front after all.

"I want you to tutor me." Vega said. "I am not performing adequately in certain classes. It is believed that you took the Top Marks for your classes last year. You have not yet been so far removed from your First Year that you do not know the material. Nor will you use this as an opportunity to hold one over me. You are, simply, the best choice."

A pin could be dropped in the Great Hall. Students never asked someone from outside their House to tutor them. The sabotage that could be done… It was just too great a risk. Whispers soon began to race up and down the four tables.

"Very well." Harry said simply. "I will send my owl, Ashes, to you with a classroom and time once I have established when and where." He said.

"Hey Harry, can I join?" Luna asked from her spot to the right of Vega.

"Of course you can Luna." Harry said, having no fathomable idea what this would do.

Ten heartbeats passed before pandemonium occurred. Suddenly Harry was being shouted at by the First Years from every House. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, all of them wanting his help. He couldn't distinguish the voices.

Even the staff seemed taken back by the sudden surge of voices.

Harry flicked his wand out of his holster and into his hand. He raised it above his head and his power swirled. A boom of sound registered out of the tip of his wand, getting everything to silence back down to where a pin could drop once more. He then tucked his wand away slowly, giving him time to focus on his words, despite the attention on himself.

"Professor Flitwick, is there any Hogwarts rules against tutoring like this?" He asked. He knew there were rules that allowed a single student to be privately tutored in a subject instead of attending the class. But they had to provide their own tutor and, if the tutor requested it, provide payment on their own.

Flitwick wiped his mouth with his napkin a moment. "No, not to my knowledge Mr. Potter."

It would eat into his independent research time and there was much he had to do. He closed his eyes in thought. So much to do, so little time. He was already shuffling around the hours of his day, knowing every moment was precious. He could hear the First Years getting restless, waiting for a response.

"I will have a notice posted in each of the four common rooms." Harry said slowly and loudly, letting his voice carry. "When I have found a room and a time, I will let everyone know. I will have an answer before next Saturday. This gives me time to set up a method that I can help everyone with everything they need in an efficient manner.

"Do not abuse this." He said flatly, looking around the Great Hall. "I will not be giving you the answers, I will not be giving you my notes from the previous years. I will be helping you so you understand the information yourself. We are required to go through many classes here at Hogwarts, and I'm sure many of you need help with more than one. Do not come to me expecting the answers."

Harry regarded Vega LeStrange a moment. "Heiress LeStrange, I apologize about the change of circumstances for your tutoring." He said. "I hope that my tutoring will be to the level of your expectations so that you may perform as adequately as you feel you need to."

Harry turned and gathered his things. "Dust." He said, feeling the crow settle on his shoulder. He walked from the Great Hall.

He had a schedule to figure out, as well as a way to tutor some number of students in several classes.

Odd how fast suspicion faded away when he had a use to the student populace again.

-**End Chapter-**


	37. Book 2: Chapter 10

_Last Time: The Chamber of Secrets has been opened by a false Heir. Harry has been regarded with suspicion, but still the first years come to him for tutoring._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 10

"Okay, before we begin getting into the complicated things of Necromancy," Harry began taking a piece of chalk and starting to draw upon a black board. His drawing was atrocious, but it would serve its purposes. "We must begin with the basics of Animation and the Soul."

Susan sat with rapt attention as she listened, taking notes in her journal on one page, the other ready for the drawings.

"The newly dead cannot be raised for seven days." Harry explained. "Their soul lingers for that long before it goes off to wherever it is sent to. Certain creatures can consume it, but then the dead can't be raised again, but we're getting off topic. We can't exactly see or touch a soul…" He glanced over to Susan. "It's sort of this blob like sensation with lines over lapping. We can point it out, but we won't be able to see it. I can consume it as the Pale Rider, but again… off topic.

"The older the Dead, the bigger the sacrifice needed. A chicken is used, generally, for those under a century old, so always read the Headstone, to find out when the dead have passed." He said as he drew a bit of markings on his drawing, to indicate a death date.

"But according to the rumors, you, or Death, raised the dead without a sacrifice." Susan pointed out as she drew in her journal, making a better drawing than Harry.

"Yes, but I drew upon my powers as the Pale Rider and used my own blood mixed into the rain." He explained. "My blood acted as the sacrifice instead of needing something. One of my artifacts as the Pale Rider gives me twelve emergency sacrifices and also enhances my Animating abilities. It could be considered the largest possible Sacrifice outside of Human sacrifice." Harry mused.

"Anyways, off topic once more. Generally, any zombie you're looking to Animate that is over three hundred, you're going to want the White Goat, or the Human sacrifice. But you might be able to push a regular goat back another century or two. We'll experiment with it. You and I however," Harry's expression turned serious. "We will not, ever perform Human sacrifice. Goats and chickens are the two most used, and as such that's what we will use. I'll experiment with rabbits, sheep, and even cattle later to see if we can't add a bit of variety."

Susan nodded, jotting it down quickly. "Why does it require a bigger sacrifice the older the zombie?" she asked.

"You're having to Will more done." Harry said simply. "By the time they're a three hundred year old corpse, the bones have turned to dust. That's not so simple to turn into a human looking corpse once more and Animate it with 'life'."

Susan studiously jotted down more notes. It really was a complex form of Magic with a lot of rules and things going into it. But if she was honest, in the past several days since they began, it had gotten more and more exciting to her. She could do so much to help others, she could give them closure perhaps

"Now in the case of a One on One summoning, where you will have the most power, you need to know their name to get the best results." Harry said and put a name on the Headstone drawing. "I doubt I need to go over the power of names, but you must call them by their name three times. Again, I doubt I need to tell you the power of Three in Magic. It is one of the most powerful Magical Numbers. More Ancient laws follow the Rule of Three than anything else." Harry explained. "Seven is considered the most powerful because it is also the most stable, but in truth you will have stronger results with three.

"Case in point, Nicolas Flamel crafted the Philosopher's Stone using a Seven pointed pentagram within his Transmutation circle. The exact formula he used in his Transmutation circle is unknown, but it is well known he used Seven Points for stability purposes. For the past at least hundred years, he has been working on a Transmutation formula outside an equilateral triangle. It is dangerous, but whatever he is working on will make the Philosopher's Stone be considered his penultimate achievement."

Susan nodded and continued taking notes. She noticed that Harry liked to get off topic, giving examples and clarification. She wondered how the First Years he tutored would be able to handle it. But, she felt as though she was getting the ground work for the Necromancy down better.

"Now, last thing is the barrier." Harry drew a circle around the Headstone. "This will be generally done with the blood of your sacrifice. A completed circle isn't necessary, as you won't be willing to bleed yourself that much for the Zombie." He explained. "But a chicken and a goat, you'll be able to walk the circle. Some also pour salt, to try and strengthen the barrier, but truth of the matter is it doesn't do anything." He explained.

"Then where did the rumor come from?" Susan asked curiously. It seemed like an odd thing to require.

"Because Salt_ is_ required to put the zombie back to the grave. By blood, steel, and salt you will return the Zombie to their grave. Blood to bring it back under your complete power once more, steel to remind it of the earth to return to, and salt to banish the soul from its body to return to the after life." Harry explained.

He then flicked out his knife, spinning the handle along his fingers until he held it up. "This is steel, and given my powers, I can take command of the Dead. I have this on hand to put Zombies back if necessary. In time, your strength will be that you can commandeer certain Undead as well. Ghouls, zombies, weaker vampires… Don't try with Lethifolds and Dementors, that's a whole other story."

Susan blinked, seeing the knife in his hand. "And do you keep salt on you as well?" she asked.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Don't be silly, but table salt is quite readily available in most situations. Besides, I just need to find the Necromancer's salt." He shrugged his shoulders.

Susan nodded and continued jotting notes down. After a moment, she bit her thumb a moment, frowning. "How long does a Zombie keep?" she asked.

"Days, two weeks tops." He explained. He inhaled. "That's… not entirely true. There is some truly dark Vodoun Magic that is… capable of trapping the soul within the Zombie. You see, over time the soul begins to… leak out of the zombie, causing the decay. There are theories that if you keep it for long enough, the soul will leak out fully and the zombie will cease to be animated. But… if you trap the soul within the zombie…"

Harry shook his head and took a moment to compose himself. Despite his demeanor, even he could be affected by the cruelty of humans towards those they thought they could control and the dead were often no different. "If you trap the soul, not only will they be under you command, but they will be more self-aware. And the body will not rot, it will not fall apart.

"This is not to say that Vodoun Magic is evil. It is after all a well-known religion. According to Dust, the most known Priestess is _Abuela _Rosa Dominguez. She lives in Haiti and has had dealings with the immediate Previous Pale Rider. She is a long lived Witch, and incredibly powerful. Her morals are a very, very dark gray."

"Should I be afraid of her?" Susan asked softly.

Harry nodded his head. "Be afraid and smart, and be alive. I'd rather you be afraid of her than fearless, stupid, and dead."

Susan wrote the information down in her journal, praying that she would never meet the woman.

Before Harry could begin into the incantations for both the Animation and the Laying of the Corpse, Hannah burst into the room. "Harry! I found some of my things!" she called out

-_**Scene Break-**_

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair in his office. He swished a Lemon Drop around in his mouth, letting the tart treat tickle his taste buds. He had sent a message, asking for Filius to come and join him. He knew it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation, but he was hoping that they could go about it in an intellectual way.

Perhaps it was the Gryffindor in him, choosing to go through with this rather than holding his cards to chest.

The door swung open to show the stouter professor who strode in. With his recent bouts with Harry, Flitwick had clearly been accessing his Goblin Heritage more. His body was a little more spry and his magic was allowing him to move with little effort, despite pushing the later years of his life span.

Dumbledore was curious if he'd even be able to beat Flitwick in a duel at that moment, or if he would lose the Elder Wand in combat to him. With the loss of his arm, he couldn't use his Wand and perform Wandless magic at the same time, and there was plenty of Wandless magic he could use, such as Alchemy.

He also knew that Flitwick's invigoration could only go so far. He had been neglecting the training for too much, for too long. It would be a close match, but Dumbledore thought he might squeeze out a win.

Dumbledore raised the Elder Wand and swished it at the door. It closed, locked, and sealed itself as Flitwick conjured a comfortable looking chair that he sat himself down in. A flick of the Elder Wand had the tea pot's tray walk across the desk before plopping three scoops of tea into the smaller pot.

"How goes Mr. Potter's investigation into the False Heir?" Dumbledore asked as he took a biscuit and took a bite from it.

'Dismally, I'm afraid. Mr. Potter's genealogy reports show the Gaunt family as being the last of the Slytherin Family." Dumbledore could tell Filius held information back, but that was fine.

Dumbledore decided to show a bit of his hand. "Mr. Potter has already informed me of his knowledge of Tom Riddle's Horcruxes, Filius. And with Tom Riddle being the last known Slytherin Heir before Mr. Potter, it's safe to say I think I can infer a bit more." He said politely.

Flitwick narrowed his eyes suspiciously a moment and Dumbledore raised his tea cup up to take a drink. "Mr. Potter believes it could be another Horcrux, emphasis on the 'could', not that it is."

Dumbledore nodded and took another drink of his tea. "And regarding our conversation at the end of last year, how do you feel about that?"

"I feel as though you are trying to till bedrock, Albus. I will not spy on Mr. Potter for you in some ill conceived attempt for evidence." Flitwick said sharply.

"I'm not asking you to Filius, I want your honest opinion on it. You've had time to think over it, tell me I am wrong and I will honestly be relieved." Dumbledore said.

"Why are you so damned determined Albus? Mr. Potter has done nothing but show himself to be an exemplary student that has his own personal demons. He strives for nothing less than excellence for himself." Flitwick said. "He is no Dark Lord in training, and even if he was, you wouldn't be able to sway him. He doesn't listen with his emotions, he listens with facts and logic."

"Filius, I just want to keep Mr. Potter from being swayed to a darker path. You can hardly blame me for that, he is the future of the Wizarding World." Dumbledore said.

"Why?" Flitwick asked more insistently. When he saw that Dumbledore wasn't about to answer, he stood up. "He is not a Grindelwald in training Albus. He is not a Voldemort in training. And I will not be having this conversation with you." Flitwick turned for the door, his wand flicking out to remove the basic wards.

His hand was on the door knob when Dumbledore spoke up. "Because I see so much of myself in Mr. Potter." He said wearily. Dumbledore even sounded defeated, and like he had aged twenty years from that one sentence.

Flitwick turned to look at Dumbledore who had removed his glasses and was rubbing his eyes. There was a slump to his shoulders, like he was so tired. He looked frail even.

Flitwick slowly returned to his seat. "What are you talking about Albus?"

Dumbledore slowly put his spectacles back on his face and looked up and away, as though seeing the past instead of the present. "I was an arrogant young man Filius. Arrogant, powerful, striving for success, and I developed a silver tongue early, able to charm and persuade Professors and students alike." He said.

"I was sorted into Gryffindor for my boldness, but I was almost placed in Slytherin. I was cunning, ambitious, and I struck out against people for their words against me, or my family." The older wizard shook his head. "I was… Ravenous for knowledge. I was consumed by it. And I had no problem using the people around me to sate my hunger for more.

"And worse, I had no problem delving into the darker arts to sate that hunger for knowledge." Dumbledore said ashamed, closing his eyes as he remembered the countless hours he spent in the restricted section, pouring over tome after tome of knowledge. "I had made plans for after Hogwarts, to travel and continue exploring the very boundaries of magic. I needed to know, I thirst for the knowledge."

His eyes opened and he looked to Flitwick. "Filius, my childhood is not a good one." He said simply. "I was consumed by the pursuit of knowledge, and I did everything in my power to continue gaining it. When my mother passed, all my plans and hopes had shattered around me.

"I had a younger sister Filius, one I had to watch as I had grown to be the head of the family with the death of my mother. I was… angry. Spiteful even about it. Aberforth… he was the one that Arianna liked, and he would have been a better man to watch over her." Dumbledore bowed his head, thoughts crossing his mind.

"The summer of my fifth year, I met… him. Gellert Grindelwald…" Dumbledore sighed, a mix of shame and fondness. "Many think that… Gellert changed me. The truth couldn't be farther away. In truth, I sent him down the path of darkness. The pursuit of knowledge changed us both, and I awakened this need for power in him and we both came to believe a 'Might makes Right' mentality that if allowed to cultivate would have been the death of many, many Muggles.

"When I finished at Hogwarts, Gellert and I had many plans to travel the world, and in that, we had thought to take Arianna with us, just so that we didn't have to scrap the plans. We simply had to change them." His shoulders slumped as he remembered the arguments between himself and Aberforth, him shouting and his brother staying the calm and level headed of the two.

"Aberforth… He… objected. He objected with good reason, and had offered to take Arianna. But… In my youthful arrogance, I thought he was questioning my abilities, questioning me. I did not take that well." Dumbledore looked to Flitwick, drawing his mind back to the present.

"A duel broke out between Gellert, myself, and Aberforth. Who threw what, I cannot even begin to say. But at the end, Arianna was dead, Gellert had a history of starting fights and fled. It was this death that haunts me to this day. It haunts my every waking moment. Every time I close my eyes, I see the lifeless body of my sister Filius.

"My boggart is the body of my dead sister, my nose was broken by my brother and I have left it misshapen to remind me the folly of believing you know everything. I do not claim that Mr. Potter is as bad as I had been, but I know well the seductive nature of knowledge Filius. And I fear, that Mr. Potter does not have the attachments necessary to pull out of the darkness. It was the shock of my sister's death that brought me away from the brink of Darkness. I do not believe that Mr. Potter has such a thing that will pull him away. Please Filius, if you have anything to alleviate a foolish old man's fears, then I beg of you to tell me." Dumbledore was practically pleading at this point, and he felt the tears sliding down his face to his beard.

He did not wish to see such a promising young man follow in his own footsteps.

"For the past two Halloweens Filius, I have seen neither hide nor hair of Mr. Potter, I do not claim I wish for him to participate in the festivities Filius, I would not wish for him to seem to celebrate the death of his parents. But I would like him to not hide himself away from his peers. I fear he grieves for his parents and grief can turn to a terrible, terrible thing. Blackness seems to engulf Mr. Potter on all sides, and I know of no light that is breeching the darkness around him."

Flitwick looked to Dumbledore, a moment of silence passing between them. Before Dumbledore sat a man that knew his past, he knew of the demons that plagued at Dumbledore, something he could hardly be blamed for.

Not even Fawkes, who trilled softly, could alleviate the fears, could alleviate the pain. And Dumbledore was in pain, like a constant and painful throb in his heart. Had he unleashed the spell that killed Arianna? He had woken from many a night in a cold sweat.

It was not that Harry reminded him of Gellert Grindelwald or Tom Riddle, but it was that Harry reminded Dumbledore so much of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

Flitwick heaved a sigh and took a drink of the tea. "Harry is… Undoubtedly the entity you fought alongside at the end of last year, Albus. But, like you, I have no proof. I will not risk the comradery that I have with Harry to accuse him with a baseless claim, but I can tell that he had been in an intense fight for his life at the end of the last year.

"Harry too wishes to study all forms of Magic, and I have a strong belief that he hasn't ceased that study since his arrival at Hogwarts. If anything, he's accelerating at a rate that I cannot begin to fathom. He has been in the presence of the High King of the Goblin Nation, and if the rumors are true has even dined with the High King.

"Harry has burdened so much, Albus. He has shouldered things that I cannot begin to fathom. I do not know his mission as this… Death or why he must claim such a title. I do not know the true extent of his knowledge any more than you do Albus, or the truth of why Godric Gryffindor spoke with Harry last year." Flitwick took a drink of the tea once more.

Before Dumbledore could think to speak, Flitwick continued. "However, this darkness you see around Harry… it is being pierced by a most unlikely source. Our First Years." Flitwick said, leaning back with a hint of a smile. "Harry has taken to already helping the First Years of Ravenclaw with their homework. The way they write, the way they're getting better at writing, it is clear that, at the very least, he is proof reading their work.

"And now Mr. Potter has agreed to take on the entirety of the First Years to tutor them in the subjects that they are weakest at. And if I know Mr. Potter as well as I think I do, I know soon the House Point system at Hogwarts will be obsolete and the First Years will refuse to hold themselves to such a dated standard. I think, no I believe that Mr. Potter is the key to uniting Hogwarts. Even with this fiasco with a false Heir of Slytherin, Mr. Potter still holds a lot of clout and sway with the First Years.

"I have watched him hard at work, reading through genealogy reports, attempting to find something. What, I cannot say. And despite this time intensive work, the quality of his classwork has not diminished in the slightest. He is still researching and doing independent study. Recently, he has been seen speaking with Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones more and more. He has sent letters upon letters out of Hogwarts, to Gringotts and to his Legal aid.

"Despite all of this, all of this difficult and challenging work, Mr. Potter is still holding himself to his promises. He has promised me to go to the Dueling Championship in Hong Kong, to enter himself in exchange for going with him and Mr. Weasley the youngest to the Chess Championship in Switzerland. He has trained with me every Sunday since the start of the year. I have seen him working on a syllabus and a schedule in which he can assist the First Years, in their entirety."

Flitwick looked sharply to Dumbledore. "Do not push Albus. Mr. Potter does not take being slighted lightly. Give him a chance to prove that he is better than you were, give him a chance to prove that he has the potential to be the best that this world, the Magical World of Britain, needs. He does not forgive lightly Albus, and if he does, he does not forget. Ever."

"Much like you, old friend. Much like you." Dumbledore said politely as he leaned back in thought. Perhaps… an apology was in order.

_**-Scene Break-**_

"You have got to be kidding me." Harry whispered as he stared at the building before him.

Hannah's outburst had immediately thrown everything to the back burner. They had to get her equipped with her artifacts, even at the cost of everything else. If she was going to act as a Healer, then she needed to be on the battle field to get to them swiftly. And for that to happen, she had to be powerful enough to hold her own on the battle field, even if it was just dodging attacks.

They were in Milan, Italy in the depths of the Magical side of things. He saw a whole manner of creatures walking amongst Witches and Wizards. He recognized four different races of Elves, two Dwarves, a gnome, even a centaur. It was equality on the surface at its finest.

But the place that Hannah had seen in her dreams… well…

"Harry? What does it say?' Susan asked from beside him, Hannah flanking his other side.

"Magical Museum of the Empire of Rome featuring an exhibit on the Bubonic Plague from Mongolia." Harry said simply. "The Witch that cured it was Madam Giselle d'Este born in what would become Milan." He then glanced at Hannah. "Your predecessor and the actual cause of the Bubonic Plague as well." He said and started to lead the way inside. "Though rumored to be started in Mongolia, the truth of the matter was that Giselle d'Este tried to deny her powers and when she was on a trip to China with her father… well… they found a way out."

They were quickly stopped by a security guard once inside. "Boy! What are you doing here? You should be at school."

Harry regarded the Italian guard, noting the pistol on his left hip and the wand in a left arm wand holster. He could see the look of confusion and fear on both Susan and Hannah's face. It told him the man was speaking Italian and it was up to him to get them out of the mess. He hated looking young enough to be a school boy, despite the rather expensive way he had dressed himself. They had even purposely left their robes at the school before Despair brought them.

"I happen to be touring one of my facilities here, Good Sir, and thought that a bit of sight-seeing for my culture wouldn't be out of the question. My friends are with me so that they can understand a bit of the things that I do from my Roman roots." He would not be badgered by a Security Guard.

He stepped forward at the dark skinned man. "So please, continue to impede upon my progress in viewing this museum. I will buy it and then have you scrubbing the bathrooms with a tooth brush."

The man's hand drifted down, like he was about to flick his wand out. Harry had seen and done it many, many times after all. "And who are you boy to make such outrageous claims?" The man asked.

"Stefan! Enough!" An older gentleman in a suit came by and moved between the Security guard. "Mr. Potter, a pleasure to finally meet you. I had worked briefly at your great-grandfather's Emporium in Sicily. I was a diver in my youth, collecting various artifacts from the bottom of the Mediterranean. I'll never forget the mess that was Lord Artemis Potter's hair."

Harry inclined his head briefly. "I am looking to rebuild my family's businesses, including the one in Sicily. I have the fiscal reports from it, and was most disappointed to learn that my father had sold it. But that was a war time measure, I suppose."

The older gentleman bowed and took a step back. "Please Mr. Potter, enjoy our fine Museum."

Harry inclined his head again before he led the two girls to get their tickets for entrance.

'What was all that about?" Susan asked. "I thought we were about to be thrown out or deported."

"The Potter name has a long reach Susan. And though our web has, in recent years, diminished, it is still there. And just like in England, people from all over know of my work. While I mostly deal in import and export, at a time, the Potter Family has also done archeological research in Italy." Harry explained.

Hannah shook her head. "I don't know how you do it Harry, but I'm glad you're helping me out with this. I don't understand a bit of Italian." She said.

Harry smiled slightly. "I doubt I do either, but the Cowl allows for most languages to be translated with little problem. I can speak it and hear it fluently. Though, I would like to test it with other magical languages as well, but I haven't had the chance yet. Being a Parseltongue makes trying with serpents even more difficult."

The trio maneuvered their way towards the Bubonic Plague exhibit, and the center piece of the Display was the outfit of Madam Giselle d'Este. A black robe hung from the mannequin's frame, as it moved about the display, preparing potions and reading from a thick tome. The cloak was edged in vivid red and gold letterings that caught Harry's attention.

"Runes… for protection… sterilization even." He said. If she was working on the Bubonic Plague, then he was not all that surprised as the protection would protect the plague from transferring from victim to victim.

Gloves over lapped the sleeves of the robe, thick leather that did nothing to impede the wearer's movements. "A pair of shooter's gloves." Harry told Hannah. It was the gloves of a bowman, intended to fire rapid shots without hurting the hand. They were made of some sort of ancient hide, but what Harry couldn't tell.

It wasn't reptile leather, he knew that much.

And of course the last of the piece was an old Doctor's mask. It was white porcelain, as pure snow white as it had started. The eyes were blackened, keeping anyone from seeing past the unseeing sockets. A hooked 'beak' stuck out. "The start of the iconic mask of the Plague Doctor." Harry said as he looked at it. He could only begin to fathom the enchantments on the set of clothing.

"But… They were fakes." Hannah said. "The masks didn't do anything, and Plague Doctors were often incapable of curing even a minor cold." She said. "This… all of this…" She waved her hand at the ensemble. "It doesn't make sense from a historical standpoint."

Harry looked to Hannah. "You're right, most Plague Doctors were fakes. Some were fruit merchants before becoming such. In fact, there's a journal from one of my ancestors that was one." He looked to the mask. "And the masks they wore were often filled with aromatic drugs, a false notion that they were being protected from the 'disease carrying putrid air' which, as you and I both know, was often not the cause of the disease but instead the dead were.

"But this… this is the Madam d'Este's personal protective clothing Hannah. Yes, she was about three hundred years before the popularization of the Plague Doctor mask in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but…" He glanced over to Hannah. "We're not talking about normal things here Hannah, we're talking about a Mistress of Plagues and Pestilence." He said in a lower tone.

"You think that the mask is more special than something to be filled with drugs." Hannah said.

"I know it is. We just need to experiment with it to find out what it can really do."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Susan asked, moving closer to Harry and Hannah so they could continue speaking in lower tones.

Harry glanced to the moving mannequin. "We steal it."

-**End Chapter-**


	38. Book 2: Chapter 11

_Last Time: Harry begins the first lesson on Necromancy with Susan when Hannah announces that she has felt some of her artifacts. Dumbledore lays bare some of his own demons and why he has been persistent in meddling in Harry's affairs. Harry comes to the conclusion that they must steal Hannah's artifacts from a museum exhibit in Milan._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 11

'Are you out of your ever loving mind? You're talking about stealing from a museum as though you were talking about a potion!"

Hannah's rant had not come as a surprise to Harry. They were once more back in the Room of Requirement after a ride upon Despair. With his trusty Thestral, Harry was more than capable of coming and going as he pleased.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he had more time to get Hannah and Susan to see Greyer than Light or Dark. Granted, both came from generally Grey families. But Harry's shade of Grey was much darker than their own.

Hence why he so casually stated they were going to steal the artifacts and they were having the current difference of opinions.

"Harry, isn't there something else we can do?" Susan asked, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose tighter. "Sit." He said to Hannah in a tired tone. Thankfully, she sat down. "I would love nothing more than to obtain your artifacts, Hannah, through legal means. Unfortunately, it is just not feasible."

Harry withdrew a pamphlet from his robes and slid it over to Hannah. "The items of Giselle d'Este are part of the Milan Museum and were placed with the Black Plague exhibit. Giselle is a part of Milan's history. They are considered a national treasure. No government in their right mind would part with a national, historic treasure so easily. It'd be like going and offering to buy the Crown Jewels from the Tower of London.

"Next, simply put, I don't have that sort of money. I am stupidly rich Hannah. If I were to liquidate every asset that came with the Potter name, and turn every Galleon I have into Pounds, I would have a net worth of at least three hundred million pounds. Even still, the items of Giselle d'Este are considered priceless."

Hannah looked up with a bit of wide eyes. She had not considered that the items would cost that much to obtain.

"Now, let's say for a moment that they were willing to sell such a historical piece of treasure." Harry said. "I cannot afford to bankrupt myself to buy them. I have duties that Harry Potter, Scion of Houses Potter and Black must do. Being Death, Rider of the Pale Horse of the Apocalypse, does not provide an income." He said

Harry stood up and went to set of drawers. From the top one, he pulled out a three inch thick stack of parchments and genealogy reports bound with a rubber band. He tossed them onto the large table. "That is reports and research in regards to the Heir of Hufflepuff. Found."

The next stack was twice the size of the first one, and bound with a rubber band. "Heir of Ravenclaw. Found."

Harry then tossed another six more, one on top of the other, each as thick as the Ravenclaw stack and bound with a rubber band. "Heir of Gryffindor, still working on." Harry said and sat down, moving the stacks of papers to the side.

"As Heir of Slytherin, I cannot make any changes to the school without either the Board of Governors approval, an impossible task since I plan to dissolve them, or the other three Heirs. Given the unclear line of succession for Gryffindor that I've narrowed down to the past hundred and fifty years, it will take time. These reports cost me a fair bit of money. And change needs to come, not just for the school but for the government as well." Harry said.

Harry leaned in a little bit. "And sad to say, but our government is corrupt and full of bigots that need to know that it will no longer be tolerated. We cannot afford our Mundane born students to continue returning to the Mundane world. They respect one thing, power. Power comes not only magically, but financially as well. If I happen to be bankrupt, these sort of people won't even socialize with me, nonetheless listen to what I have to say.

"And the last thing that keeps me from being able to go through getting your Artifacts in a legal manner Hannah, is time." He set his elbows against the table and crossed his fingers over one another. He set his mouth against his fingers a moment, gathering his thoughts so that he could convey why they didn't have the time.

"I will need both you and Famine to assist me in getting War. And I would almost bet on War not coming peacefully. Had the events of last year not occurred, and I got to her before you, I would have been capable of taking her. But every day, War grows stronger and she gets a little more unbalanced.

"Imagine, every waking moment of your life, you smell blood and smoke, hear screams and metal clashing and the beating of war drums, feel fire and the tackiness of dried blood, taste the smoke and soot and blood. Because that is what War is dealing with. And I have no doubt that it is wearing on her. War is the most unstable of us all, because she is the embodiment of all of the worst things of Humanity. It is this instability that makes her strong.

"For the two of us? Me injured as I am and you not at your peak growth rate, War would be too much to handle and she would destroy us in moments. I need to get you and Famine both up in strength quickly, before War's strength threatens to overwhelm us. We can help War, help stabilize her, but we need her to join with us first and there is no guarantee that will happen if it is just the two of us."

Harry was brutally realistic about his chances at the moment. While he might be able to take War in a magical duel, he doubted she'd let it continue being a magical duel once she realized her strength. And then she would overwhelm him.

Hannah worried her lower lip, looking to Harry. No doubt she had come to the conclusion that he was right in his assessment. Even with all of his artifacts boosting his magic and magical growth, he was still limited in how far he could push himself. Granted, in a few more weeks, it wouldn't matter. After all, they were in November at the moment.

Hannah ran her hand through her blonde hair, pulling at her pigtails. "How can you be so casual about this?" she asked. "I mean, I'm trying to learn to be accepting and understanding, but you just sit there so… cold… so distant from it all."

Harry inhaled and set his hands down on the table. He gave a soft whistle, holding his arm out. From his perch in the rafters, Dust fluttered down to land on Harry's arm and he brought the crow to his body. He gently stroked its breast, smoothing the black feathers down.

"When Dust came to me Hannah… I had no idea about magic." Harry admitted. He set the bird on the table and began to smooth the feathers over Dust's back and wings. The bird made a few sounds of delight at the attention. Harry looked to Hannah's eyes. He knew where once had been sharp green eyes, they were now dull and deadened.

"Dust offered so many things to me. I would never have to fear my relatives again, they would no longer bully me. He offered me so much… more. He caught a young child's attention, his imagination, and he twisted it. I was so desperate that I embraced it fully." Harry said softly.

"And Dust upheld his end of the bargain. I do not fear my relatives, he has let me be so much more than I could have been." Harry held up his left hand and emerald green flames began to flicker along his fingertips as they turned bony. He could control his Aura to specific parts of his body at this point.

"I have become more than I was. I'm strong, I'm fast, I'm intelligent." Harry closed his hand and looked back to Hannah's eyes. "You do not embrace being Pestilence, not fully. And that is fair, but I embrace being Death to its fullest." Harry said.

"Dust then took me and mentored me, Hannah. He molded me forward. He made me logical, he made me hard. I still try to do what is right, as often as I can." Harry wasn't sure if he was convincing Hannah or himself. "But I will do what is necessary if I have to. I have a gut feeling that I will need War in the near future, Hannah. If getting her means dragging you up to your full potential, I will drag you kicking, screaming, and questioning if I have to. If it means taking you to steal your artifacts from the Museum in Milan, then so be it." Harry's eyes were once more sharp and vibrant.

Hannah stared into those bright green eyes and nodded. "Where do we begin?" She asked softly.

Harry stood up and went to the chalkboard. He picked up a piece of chalk and quickly began to write. "You and I will go to Milan on the back of Despair. He'll drop us right in front of the display. Susan, you're going to remain here in the Room of Requirements, I'll loan you both my invisibility cloak once we're done so you can slip back to the Hufflepuff Common Room. It's the only item of Death without the soul stealing enchantments on it.

"Once there, I'll cut through the glass of the display with the Harvester and also destroy the Mannequin. I doubt it's enchanted to be anything more than a nuisance, but just in case I'll take care of it as well. By then the guards will be alerted to our presence

"I'll stand between you and the guards, Hannah. I can guard against magic and their guns, you need to act fast though and grab the Artifacts. Then I call Despair, we mount up and we come back here, hence Susan remaining here to keep the room open for Despair to flash us into."

He turned to both girls. "Any questions?" he asked.

"You're not going to kill these men are you?" Susan asked worried.

Harry shook his head. "No. I'm going to try and avoid harming any of them in the slightest but if I do need to engage them, I'll be using non-lethal and temporary spells. I don't want to hurt them for doing their job."

He could see that that lifted quite a bit of weight off of both girls' shoulders. He supposed he didn't blame them, but he had hoped for a bit more trust. Oh well.

Harry looked to Hannah. "Let's get you suited up."

-_**Scene Break-**_

It was November Seventh at 8pm when they finally decided to make their play. Emerald green flames erupted before the display of Madam Giselle d'Este and a proud Thestral stood there with wings splayed out, two passengers upon his back.

Harry leapt to the right, landing in front of the display. He was in full Death Regalia and made no sound as he slipped off. He heard a slight thump as Hannah landed to his left in a slight crouch. He frowned behind the Cowl, he would need to teach her how to take a landing like that.

"Let's begin." Harry's rattling voice came as he extended the Harvester to full length. Despair flashed out, but was on standby, waiting for Harry's call.

The Harvester extended into a spear and Harry brought his arms back. He thrust the spear forward, through the glass, shattering it. He also cleaved the head of the Mannequin off with the spear through its throat.

He used the Harvester to break open some more of the glass. "Hurry Pestilence." He said.

Hannah moved forward. She wore an all-black outfit with something transfigured into a cowl to wrap around her face. The sound of booted feet caught both their attention and they turned as flashlights and wands illuminated them, guns and wands both trained at them.

"I will handle it!" Harry barked as he stepped forward and thrust his hand out. A compressed blast of air knocked some of the men down. He then swept his hand upwards, a wall of ice forming just as gun and spell fire opened upon on them.

Hannah turned her back to the glass, flinching at the sound of gunfire. She ran her bare hands over the cloak, and mask. At the gloves she felt the twinge of belonging. "Ha- Death!" She was quick to correct herself. "Only the gloves are real!" She shouted as she pulled them from the mannequin.

Harry wanted to curse as he sent a gust of wind at the guards as they moved to the exhibits above. He sent them sprawling before he formed more ice. "Put them on and try to feel out with your powers, make sure there is nothing more here."

Hannah was quick to pull on the leather gloves. She felt an amazing rush of power flow through her. She tightened her fingers in them and tried to focus. "There's one more here, that way!" she turned and pointed.

Harry allowed the Harvester to sink back into the Dominion Gauntlet. The ice shifted away to reveal the guards that had advanced with guns and wands trained at them and Harry thrust both hands out. Concussed air blasted them off their feet and Harry looked to Hannah. "Stay behind me." He said

He ran out and turned sharply for the direction that Hannah pointed at. He didn't look behind him to make sure that Hannah was behind him, he just raced forward staying low and allowing his cloak to billow out around him. A trio of guards came skidding around the corner and he swept his hand to the side, a gust of air throwing them down the hallway.

"Left!" Hannah shouted from behind him, trying to keep up with him. "Cleared!" Hannah shouted as she turned left.

Harry spun on his heel and blasted the hallway with ice, to keep them from being pursued that way. It gave Hannah a chance to catch up before they took off again. No doubt her chest burned, but Harry couldn't slow their pace down.

It was too dangerous.

"Keep going straight and it's up!" Hannah said as they came to another intersection. Harry froze the hallway behind him again, hoping to continue giving problems for the guards. There had to be at least twenty of them for as big as the museum was.

And it was just the night guards.

Harry wrapped an arm around Hannah's waist and extended the Harvester out to the balcony and drew them both up and over the railing.

"This display." Hannah said, pausing in front of a display of things from the Roman Empire in Africa.

It was mostly little carved figurines and such. But Harry listened to Hannah and extended the blade of the Harvester before punching a hole in the thick glass. He used the metal gauntlet to clear some of the glass for Hannah.

Tentatively, she reached into the display and took out a figure carved in ivory of a large cat. It was done with a stunning amount of detail. "What do you think it is?" Hannah asked.

"I don't…" Harry groaned in pain, cutting himself off as he clutched his head.

He groaned even more in pain as a babbling buzzing played in his ears. He fell to his knees just as he heard it.

"_**PRIMITIVE MIND TOUCHING DARKNESS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND!"**_

It descended into an incomprehensible babble for Harry and he collapsed, darkness over taking him.

"Death!" Hannah shouted in worry, clutching the warming ivory figurine. She looked up as she heard someone speaking Italian and saw lights flashing as well as the sound of running

"Death, please." She said getting down beside Harry and touching his side. The booted footsteps were getting closer and she estimated she had moments before they were upon her and the downed Harry.

She shook him, he had to wake up. She couldn't summon Despair, she couldn't get out without him. She didn't speak a single bit of Italian. She needed Harry awake.

"_**Mistress! They close in! You must Summon me by name it is-"**_

Hannah placed herself over Harry as she heard the gunfire. "PLAGUE!"

A white form of energy shot out of the figurine and placed itself protectively between the guards and Hannah covering Harry's form. It quickly materialized into the physical all powerful muscles with razor sharp claws and teeth, its paw crushing the tiles underneath them. It was a pure snow white with dark blue stripes along its body and it shook its wild mane of dark blue hair.

"Nundu!" One of the guards cried, that one word conveyed even in a language that Hannah could understand.

The massive Nundu, Plague, stood with its shoulders even with Hannah's. It was long and weighed a good half ton of muscle and bone. The massive barrel like chest expanded as it took a deep breath, even as spells and bullets slammed into its body instead of Hannah and Harry's.

The guards were already scrambling down stairs, one even leaping off the banister to get away from the dangerous predator.

Plague let out a bellowing roar. "_**I RETURN!"**_ Hannah could hear the words in her mind, reverberating off her skull. The powerful roar from the impressive magical creature shattered the glass of the displays broke the stone railings and even scattered portraits from their frames.

Plague turned to her, staring at her with electrical blue eyes and he bowed his large head. The fangs were as long as her form arms, coming out like a saber tooth cat's instead of a Nundu's. "_**Mistress."**_ There was no words, just a sort of purr coming from the large magical feline. "_**It pleases me to know the Pale One has found you, and reunited us for the first time in Three Hundred years."**_

Hannah looked to the ivory figurine and swallowed a moment before looking back to the Nundu. It wasn't exhaling a lethal and poisonous gas with every breath it took like she expected it to. "It's been three hundred years?" she asked softly.

"_**Yes. What is your bidding Mistress, I aim to serve as the White Steed."**_

Hannah inhaled and ran her hands over the cowl she wore. She needed to think, she needed to get out of there. "Can you summon the Pale Steed, Despair?" she asked softly. "Despair knows where we need to head back to."

"_**If the Pale One has found his Steed, then yes, I can call for him." **_Plague once more let out an impressive sounding roar that had no words for Hannah. In moments, the green flames of Despair approached them as the Thestral arrived.

Hannah grunted a bit as she lifted the much heavier boy. It was only thanks to helping Professor Sprout move large bags of fertilizer that she was able to move Harry. She had to get used to lifting heavy patients for work at St. Mungos, and the fertilizer was a good way to get started.

Still, Harry weighed a lot.

Plague lowered himself a bit and Hannah threw Harry onto the broad shoulders of the Nundu. She then scrambled to get on herself, her legs barely managing to wrap around his waist. After a moment, she decided to sit side saddle. "Despair, lead us back to the Room." Hannah said

Despair turned and took off running, disappearing into a burst of Emerald fire. Plague followed, crushing tiles as he ran. "_**Hold on Mistress!"**_

Hannah placed a hand on Harry and then sank her hand into the thick mane of Plague, just as they were enveloped by electric blue flames. Hannah watched as they appeared and disappeared, always following Despair's flames as he came and went, leading them back.

They came into the Room of Requirements which had been drastically expanded to allow for Despair, Susan was sitting in a chair and as they came in she bolted up right. Plague then lowered its body, allowing for Hannah and Harry to spill off.

Hannah heard Plague growling and she quickly went to the Nundu. "She's a friend, she knows, I promise." She said, gently lifting the Nundu's head up so it looked into her eyes. Goddess, she was terrified of her own 'Steed'

The growling stopped immediately and Hannah moved to Harry. She uncovered his face from the Cowl and gasped softly. Susan's gasp told her that her friend had seen it as well and it was as bad as she thought.

Harry was bleeding from his eyes, his ears, his nose, even his mouth had blood coming from it. "We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey, I can't do this." Hannah admitted as she wrenched the cowl from her face and neck. She felt so hot, she needed to cool down.

Dust gave a loud caw and Hannah looked from the crow back down to Harry and wanted to swear. "Sue, come help me. We can't take Harry like this to Madam Pomfrey." Time was of the essence though. So she lifted Harry up and positioned herself behind him. She worked on removing the Invisibility cloak.

Susan rushed over and began to help. In moments, they had Harry down to a pair of athletic pants and a black sweater he used for working out in the winter time. He had decided to wear those for the heist just to be safer.

Hannah turned to a chair and pointed her wand at it. She inhaled deeply before she performed transfiguration, her worst subject, to turn it into a passable stretched. She dragged it over before her and Susan rolled Harry onto it.

He thrashed slightly, but otherwise remained still.

"_**Shall I accompany you Mistress?"**_

Hannah glanced up to the large Nundu. "You can't follow me!" she said panicking slightly. She couldn't help it, she wasn't used to not having Harry's assistance, and he was out like a light.

She took a deep breath. She needed to relax, she needed to focus and she couldn't do that if she was panicking. She just needed a moment to breathe.

"_**I can return to the Figurine, if that is preferable Mistress."**_ Plague said.

Hannah opened her hand to look at the figurine she had been clutching. "Is it unpleasant?" She didn't want to make things unpleasant for her steed.

"_**No, it is not unpleasant. I just will not enjoy the creature comforts of being on the Physical Plane instead of the Astral Plane. I will rest, and be ready for you to call me at any time. If on the Physical Plane, if I sleep and eat, I can remain indefinitely. But I understand that I cannot follow you."**_

Even the Ancient White 'Steed' knew that the Riders kept their identities relatively secret. And it was not some common house cat that would blend in, it was the rarest of feline creatures of the Magical Animal Kingdom.

A White Nundu was much larger than its more beige counter parts, and were often in snowing parts of the world. They could also control the toxins within its body, not breathing them out every waking moment. And as Plague, he was even more intelligent than his brethren.

"I'll get you set up as soon as I can." Hannah promised Plague. "But we need to get Harry to the Healer, now." She said.

Plague inclined the large head before turning into energy and slipping back into the figurine.

Hannah was quick to pocket it. "Come on Sue, you grab the back, I'll grab the front." She said and grabbed the poles to the basic stretcher and lifted with her redheaded friend.

They made it to the fifth floor before they were caught by two Prefects.

"Hannah, Susan, what are you two doing out so late?" Cedric asked, jogging up.

"Ced, thank goodness it's you." Susan said a little out of breath. Carrying Harry was not an easy task, and the fifth year prefect would be beneficial to their task. "We were studying and lost track of time and then Harry collapsed like this and we don't know what's wrong with him, there's blood everywhere."

Cedric took one look at Harry before he moved forward. "Jess, come on, we need to get him to Madam Pomfrey." He told his Slytherin counterpart. They were often on patrol together, so he decided to try and make a friendship out of it.

The older blonde moved forward and took the side that Susan was on. "I've got him." She said in a distant tone.

Cedric and the Slytherin Prefect then moved, quickly jogging towards the second floor where the Hospital Wing was, taking two secret passages. Hannah and Susan were quick to follow, jogging after them. They made better time than if the two second year girls had carried Harry the entire way.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Cedric shouted as he barged in through the door. "We got an injured student."

Madam Pomfrey came rushing out of her quarters, wrapping the smock around herself and pushing her hair back away from her face. "Farthest bed under the window." She said. She said it in a way that it sounded without an ounce of sleep in her voice.

The two Prefects moved Harry onto the bed, carefully.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she began to run a few diagnostic spells. A quill and scroll of parchment began to take notes in the air beside her as she noted her findings.

"We were studying and we lost track of time." Hannah said, sticking with Susan's story. "Harry clutched his head and gave a sound of pain and he collapsed. Blood then started coming from… everywhere and we brought him here as fast as we could."

Pomfrey frowned more as she continued to work her spells. "It's like he's been struck by a high level of Legilimency." She said more to herself. She bustled her way to the Fire Place and threw some Floo Powder in. "Albus, I need you here Now."

In moments, Dumbledore was sweeping out of the fire place, bringing his wand up. "I take it you need me to attempt to bring Mr. Potter out of his mind?" He asked as he moved to stand on the opposite side of Harry, away from Madam Pomfrey's notes.

Patient-Healer confidentiality was still in effect.

"Yes, and remember Albus, I will be expecting you to remove what you've seen from your mind." Pomfrey said sternly.

Albus nodded and pressed his wand to Harry's forehead. "_Legilimens!" _

"_**PRIMITIVE CREATURE OF FLESH! YOU KNOW NOT WHAT YOU TOUCH!" **_The Words that came from Harry's mouth were darker, more primal. Harry's right hand came up and thrust forward against Dumbledore's breast bone. The blast of magical power sent the aged professor flying across the medical ward to land in a heap on a bed.

Fresh blood came from Harry's eyes and mouth as he coughed it up.

Pomfrey looked worried to Dumbledore before she set to work, doing what she could for Harry. She had a student bleeding from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. He needed her help more.

-_**Scene Break -**_

Wherever Harry was, it was not Milan and it was not Hogwarts. And it wasn't his mind. He knew what his barriers manifested as, and this… was most certainly not it.

Yet still, he began to walk forward, dressed as he was in his Regalia. He stood on a beach made of granulated diamonds, with lava washing in as though it was water. Water rushed up from a lake in the distance, going upwards into the sky like a reversed water fall. A forest stood in the distance from where he was, leaves thick and sounds of animals coming from within the wooden barrier. Mist clung to the trees, thick and deceptive.

Whoever created the place he was in, they were clearly powerful.

He began to walk forward, hearing the crunching of the diamonds beneath his feet. Perhaps it was more like they were ground crystals. Harry didn't know and he had no way of knowing for certain.

His feet took him to a bridge of ice, leading up to some sort of magical Citadel. A structure made of crystalline material mixed with metal. It was even more impressive and imposing than Hogwarts was, with walls that would be impossible to breach. That left only one way in.

Harry turned his gaze to the front door and inhaled.

"Will you walk into my Parlor? Said the Spider to the fly." Harry said as he began to walk along the bridge of ice, watching as it extended below him to continue onto the Citadel. In truth, the further Harry walked in this place, the more lost he felt.

It was like his mind could not fully comprehend everything and was attempting to make poor substitutes.

He stepped through the door, watching as flames appeared on the torch scones. It illuminated the all-consuming abyssal like shadow that he was walking into. Harry inhaled as he continued forward into some sort of throne room.

In the middle of the room, kneeling upon a raised dais with broken shattered stone around it, a figure lay crouched with chains digging through its form and spearing into the walls around it. Harry continued to approach it, noting its form as he got closer.

It was roughly humanoid, though the massive wings of black smoke were quite to the contrary. It was as large as a troll as well, and could likely palm Harry's face and crush it like an egg.

Harry's danger senses were screaming at him to turn and flee, to run from the room as fast as he could. But curiosity made him move closer towards the figure that had long black hair that fell to the ground.

The creature moved swiftly when Harry stepped up the dais and a clawed hand came rearing out. It stopped just barely touching Harry's flesh, the chains holding the arm back. The creature had surged forward, letting Harry get a good look at its face.

It was a skull like face with eerie yellow eyes and no mouth to speak of. In fact, from the nasal holes down, it was completely smooth. Harry bore his gaze into those yellow eyes.

"_**Rudiment Creature of Primitive Flesh and Magic. You touch that which you do not understand."**_

The words were painful upon Harry's mind and he palmed his forehead slightly. "What are you? Where did you come from?"

"_**You have slain an Old One, Death. You did not do this so casually. No Death before you has slain an Old One. You have introduced something to the Old Ones that they do not Understand.**_"

Harry's head pounded and he felt liquid spill from his nostrils. "You… you gave me the Knowledge of the Soul Magic."

"_**Primitive Creature. You assign a primitive name to something More. Something you have no hope of Comprehending.**_"

"Then help me understand it!" Harry barked at the creature. His head throbbed and his mind ached.

For a while, both creature and Rider were silent, staring at one another.

"_**In time, Little Death, you shall become More than what you are, and I will be there to take your Husk over. Your body will Ascend to More, there is no stopping this. And I shall be there to take it over. All Riders Descend from me Little Death, there is no exception to this. You have bridged the Gap between us, touching the Seal as you Have.**_"

The creature moved its head closer, heat coming off the bone of its face. "_**And when you Ascend, Little Death, I shall take your Husk and finish my work. Now Be Gone from my Mind, Little Death. You have awoken a Slumbering Darkness that you cannot comprehend."**_

With those final words, Harry was flung from the recesses of the Darkness.

-**End Chapter-**

**A/N: Well this was fun to write. Just what has Harry disturbed from its slumber?**


	39. Book 2: Chapter 12

_Last Time: Though the Heist to Milan was successful in that Harry and Hannah obtained Hannah a pair of enchanted gloves and her Steed, a White Nundu named Plague, Harry has fallen unconscious due to a powerful mental attack from an unknown creature._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 12

Harry snapped his eyes open as he came awake. His body felt like lead, but he still forced himself to sit up. He glanced around, noting himself to be in one of the Hospital Wing's beds in a corner. He saw a table piled high with cards and gifts and even flowers.

Daylight even spilled in through the windows.

He must have been unconscious for some time.

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey's call rang in his ears and he turned his eyes to see the blurry form of the Healer making her way over to him quickly. Someone had removed his glasses, and it made it difficult to see. Every time he closed his eyes though, Dust's eyes allowed him to see more sharply and in clarity.

"How long was I out for?" Harry asked lifting his arms up over his head for a while. "And can I get a glass of water? I have this horrid taste in my mouth."

Madam Pomfrey passed Harry his glasses from the bedside table. He was grateful to put them on, he didn't like the glimpses he was receiving from Dust. "You came into my care Saturday, November 7th at 8:51 PM." She said as she got him a glass of water and brought it back to him. "It is now Tuesday, November 10th, roughly 4:44 pm." She said. "That horrid taste is the taste of blood. You only stopped bleeding this morning."

Harry frowned a moment as he took a drink and swished it around in his mouth a moment. He was given a bucket to spit the water in before he took another drink, actually swallowing it. "Bleeding?" He asked.

"Yes, Ms. Abbot and Ms. Bones said you collapsed while studying, bleeding from your mouth, nose, ears, and even eyes. It was symptoms with a high powered Legilimency attack." Madam Pomfrey said in a hushed tone. "When the Headmaster attempted to probe into your mind and pull you out, your body… reacted."

Harry followed her gaze to the Headmaster who was lying on a bed, sleeping with a newspaper on his face.

"He's seeing his stay with me as a mini-vacation and has been prone to taking naps." Pomfrey said

"Except he's not asleep." Harry said loudly enough for the Headmaster to hear. Pomfrey snapped her gaze over to the Headmaster who had stilled. "How did I know that Professor?"

Slowly, Dumbledore sat up in his bed and put his glasses on his face as the newspaper fell from it. "Excellent question Mr. Potter. I have a theory if you'd like to indulge me."

"By all means Professor." Harry said.

"I believe when I attempted to enter your mind and pull you out of the attack, that with the… volatile reaction that caused you to blast me across the room, I accidently left a little of my own magic inside." Dumbledore said. He pushed his glasses up a bit as they had slid down his nose. "It has caused you to… Know me, I suppose? I never did like napping, but Poppy expects it of me. It should fade."

"And in return?" Harry asked. He somehow knew that Dumbledore was hedging things, that there was more going on than the old man was willing to say. Perhaps it led credence to Dumbledore's theory. The possibilities were… interesting.

"I saw something." Dumbledore admitted, knowing he wouldn't be able to lie to Harry, not if he had imprinted a piece of himself on the boy.

"Something so odd that your mind cannot fathom it." Harry said. "You can't process it, even after all these days, you have no idea how to begin describing it, nonetheless knowing what it was."

"It was like my mind was trying to use a million pictures to describe one thing, and none of them made any more sense than the last."

"We're not meant to understand it." Harry said. "To it, we are primitive creatures with primitive minds, and there is some truth to that. We cannot begin to fathom what it is, the shapes it takes."

"You seem to have some understanding of it." Dumbledore said evenly.

"I have a theory as well, Headmaster. Nothing more, nothing less."

"I would be more than happy to hear of such a Theory, Mr. Potter. I have found you to be quite the intelligent student, capable of making leaps of logic that even I have difficulty following. Filius is quite proud of your essay works."

Harry frowned a moment before he inclined his head. "I believe the thing, the being that attacked my mind is connected to what attacked the school last year, and the unexpected Death that defended the castle. How it is connected, and to which it shares the larger connection, I cannot say and cannot begin to understand. But that is my theory."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "While, I would dearly, Mr. Potter, like to remember this conversation and what I saw and continue this conversation at a later date, I'm afraid I am duty bound to keep Healer/Patient confidentiality and signed a magically binding contract with Poppy to remove my memories when I assist her with my Legilimency capabilities."

Harry snorted slightly. "I doubt such a thing as a magically binding contract exists. I can go into many theories as to why it wouldn't work, but by all means, remove your memories."

Dumbledore smiled slightly and brought the Elder Wand to his temple. From it, he produced a thick strand of a silvery mist that he slipped into a vial on the bedside, a vial that he then passed over to Pomfrey. "I hope I was able to help Poppy."

Pomfrey tightened her hand around the vial. "We'll see Albus, we'll see."

Just then, the door to the infirmary opened and Harry saw both Susan and Hannah coming in. They rushed over, seeing he was awake. "Harry!" Hannah said and quickly threw herself onto him in a hug.

Harry grunted a moment, forcing the spike of adrenaline down as he very carefully wrapped his arms around Hannah. He felt awkward and perhaps it showed because Pomfrey cleared her throat, getting Hannah to back off, blushing slightly.

"Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, coming over. "I'm keeping you until Friday. You can have visitors so long as you don't disturb the other guests of my Hospital wing, and they're supposed to be in class at the moment. I suspect you will have quite the many visitors once they learn you're awake."

Harry wanted to argue but he just inclined his head.

"Ms. Abbot, I trust you know how to work the Silencing Spells on the curtain, please use them if you want." Pomfrey said, glancing to Hannah before making her way back over to Dumbledore, likely to berate him.

From the wall to Harry's right, Hannah drew out a curtain and pulled it around his bed and up to the wall on his left. When it locked into place, Harry could feel a ward going up. Hannah drew her wand and used it to let out a loud, but small concussive blast to show that they wouldn't be overheard.

"I was worried when you collapsed in Milan, Harry." Hannah said, tucking her wand away and looking at him with worried eyes. "You were bleeding so badly and Madam Pomfrey kept pumping you with Blood Replenishing potions, by all rights, you should have died."

"I seem to be getting that a lot." Harry said as he drank some more water. "Did we get the other artifact?" he asked.

Hannah nodded and showed the ivory figurine. "It's Plague, he's a White Nundu."

Harry arched an eyebrow at that as he looked to the little figurine. "Impressive." He said. He was also glad that they got Hannah's 'steed' though perhaps Mount would be the better word for the 'Horses' of the Apocalypse.

Even Harry technically didn't have a horse, he had a Thestral.

"We got you a spare set of clothes and set them in the bottom drawer of your table." Susan said, speaking up. Harry's eyes cut over to her and he noticed her eyes had bags under them and she looked tired.

"Are you alright Sue?" Harry asked. The idea of one of his friends not being alright and then this happening to him to worry them, it made him feel guilty. He knew logically it wasn't his fault, but emotions didn't work that way.

Susan nodded and offered a brilliant smile. "I'm fine, I just haven't slept too well in the past few nights and I've been having night terrors. If it keeps up, I'll come see Madam Pomfrey."

Harry nodded and eased out of the bed slowly, noting Hannah moving to help him. He carefully undid the pajama top and set it to the side, bending down to open the bottom drawer. The sudden intake from the two girls told him something was wrong. "What is it?"

"Harry your back." Susan said, reaching out and touching his skin. Her fingers felt cool against his skin, or perhaps he felt feverish.

Hannah reached for a small hand mirror meant and held it up. She angled it so that Harry could see his back. He frowned a moment before he threw his hand out and conjured a full length mirror for him to look at. He turned his back to the mirror and looked at his back, not fully sure what to say about what he saw.

Two black markings ran down from between his shoulder blades to past his waist line. It looked like someone had tattooed two black wings down his back. They were markings he did not have before Saturday.

He sent a mental message to Dust, even letting his crow see through his own eyes. But Dust had no answers for him, nothing to explain what Harry was seeing, and that was perhaps the scariest thing of all.

He had no answers for what was on his back.

Harry turned away from the mirror and grabbed his shirt from the bottom drawer and was quick to pull it on. He needed to not look at it. "If anyone sees it and asks you about it, it's a manifestation of my magic. We don't know the significance of it." It was a partial truth for the two.

Susan and Hannah both nodded. "Does Dust know anything?" Susan asked.

"No, he doesn't." Harry said as he dropped the bottoms of the pajamas. He ignored the squawks from the two girls as he grabbed the slacks in the drawer and put them on. He wore a pair of briefs under the pajamas, so it wasn't like he was showing anything off.

Harry smoothed everything out and slowly sat back down on the bed. He crossed his legs under himself. "Well, I'm going to be out of commission for a few days." Harry started. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't keep up with your studies. Hannah, work with your gloves and Plague, see what both can do. He might even be able to help you understand what your gloves do."

Hannah nodded and took the figurine out of her pocket. "Is it possible to have Plague stay with Despair somewhere? While he's comfortable in the Figurine, I think he should enjoy the outside more. He's been trapped for three hundred years."

Harry frowned a moment. Three hundred years? That was close to how long Despair had gone without a Rider. That couldn't have been a coincidence. But he didn't have time to dwell on it, and he would need more proof. Perhaps once they found Disaster for Famine.

"Yes. If Plague is capable of calling for Despair, tell him to lead Plague to the glade I set up for them. I'll contact Millie and get Hermy to watch over Plague as well, so long as he doesn't hurt my House Elf." Harry said.

"I'm sure he wouldn't." Hannah said with a smile as she felt the figurine warm to her touch.

"What should I do?" Susan asked, bouncing on her heels a little bit, excited to get back to work on the Necromancy. It was like a part of herself was being completed with every lesson and she was excited. She couldn't help it.

Harry glanced to the bouncing redhead. "Get some sleep first Susan." Harry said. "And rest. When you're feeling better, then go to the Room, third shelf should have some beginning books. Work from the first three, take plenty of notes and see if you can't optimize the rituals inside of them. When I get released, I'll check your work against mine and see who has the better stuff."

Susan nodded and offered another brilliant smile that made her tired features look just a little bit less tired.

"In the meantime, could one of you bring me the reports I have on Gryffindor? I should only need the top one at this point. I might as well make use of my time here to try and get that done. Also, I'll need the schedule I'm preparing for the First Years, that's in the drawer below the Genealogy reports." He said.

Susan nodded again. "Sure, I'll get them for you. What about your classwork?"

Harry waved that away. "I'll collect it all Friday and do it all on Saturday. I'll be ready to turn it in by Monday." He grimaced slightly. "And bring me all the Lockhart books." He said in a disgusted tone. "There's something wrong and I can't just quite put my finger on it."

-_**Scene Break-**_

It was Thursday night when Harry snapped awake at the feel of the wards playing in his mind. Something had happened to one of the students of Hogwarts.

And there was a weight on his bed, something standing over him.

His hand snapped out like lightning and he grabbed the throat of the creature that flailed and thrashed in his hand. He opened his eyes and sat up, holding the struggling creature. By its build, he could tell it was a House Elf. Some wandless magic brought his glasses to his face and he looked at it with narrowed green eyes.

It had large tennis ball like eyes, it seemed malnourished, and it wore a hideously ugly tea cozy like a tunic that was quite stained. Its eyes widened and its ears drooped as it recognized Harry to be awake.

"You are not one of my Elves, and you do not bear the Insignia of a Hogwarts Elf." Harry said. He loosened his grip lightly, allowing the creature to breathe. "Who are you House Elf?"

"I am Dobby, Sir." The House Elf said, bowing a little bit. "I have been trying to help Mister Harry Potter. Bad and terrible things are happening here at Hogwarts, Harry Potter should not have returned. He should have gone home when he missed the train"

"I am well aware of the on-goings at Hogwarts, Elf." Harry said firmly. Then it clicked and Harry growled lightly. His Deathly Aura flared up. "You kept the barrier from allowing me to pass." He said, tightening his grip, shifting his hand to the tea cozy and lifting the Elf off the bed.

"Dobby was trying to protect Mister Harry Potter, Dobby is sorry!" The elf said, squealing a little bit.

Harry growled a bit more. "Who is planning the things at Hogwarts, Elf?" Harry asked.

"Dobby can't say!" Dobby wailed out, arms flailing.

Harry caught one of the arms and noticed the bandaged hands. This was an abused House Elf. Harry slowly let it go and inhaled a moment. "Dobby, I can't leave Hogwarts. And I will get to the bottom of these terrible things."

He wasn't going to hurt the creature that was from an abusive family. It would likely get in a great deal of trouble just for speaking with Harry.

Doubly so if its Master was planning the attacks at Hogwarts.

"Harry Potter is Greater than Dobby has heard. The Great Harry Potter must leave Hogwarts though, Dobby can't let him get hurt." The House Elf said with something akin to worship.

Just then the door to the infirmary banged open and before Harry could grab the Elf's arm to keep it from popping out, it did so anyways. Mere smoke remained and even that soon vanished. No doubt the crazed House Elf would try something else. Harry would just have to be ready for it.

"Who was attacked?" Harry asked as Professor McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore carried a student in and set them on the bed.

"Never you mind Mr. Potter, you should be asleep." Pomfrey said, drawing the curtain a bit and moving over to Harry.

"I was until I felt the Wards of Hogwarts alerting me to the attack. As Heir Slytherin, I am the Ward Master of Hogwarts. With an attack on a student, the Wards attempted to stop it but they were not able to, a most curious thing." Harry got out of the bed. He began to walk towards the other bed.

"Mr. Potter, I must insist you get back in bed." Madam Pomfrey said, stepping in his path.

"I will learn either tonight or in the next few nights when the rumor mill gets ahold of it." Harry said, looking up to the Matron's eyes.

"It is okay, Poppy. He might be able to notice something that we cannot." Dumbledore said, coming to Harry's aid in the matter.

Madam Pomfrey sighed before she shifted back to let Harry through.

Harry made his way towards the bed and looked down at the mess of sandy blonde hair. He wanted to swear as he immediately noted who it was with the camera. There was only one student with it and that was Gryffindor's Colin Creevy.

But what made Harry want to swear was he knew who else Creevy was. After many weeks of searching, Harry had finally come to the conclusion that Colin Creevy was in fact the rightful Heir of Godric Gryffindor. So many plans were put on hold with this.

He needed to get to the bottom of these attacks.

-_**Scene Break-**_

It was the Saturday after Harry got released from the Hospital Wing that he visited the Main Ward Stone of Hogwarts. While he missed the Full Moon on Tuesday, measures had been put into place that offered an alternative to charge the Wards in the event that an Heir did in fact miss the Full Moon for whatever reason.

But they had to be put into place within a week of the Full Moon or else he would miss his window.

It also required a few more exotic ingredients that he was thankfully able to get Millie to get. That House Elf had been a godsend really.

Harry began to sprinkle the gray powder along the Ward Stone. "Dust of the Wolf," He whispered. "You shall mimic the Moon that you are tied to." Ground werewolf bones were not an easy thing to get, but thankfully Borgin and Burkes had what he had been looking for in that regard.

He pulled a smelting pot from a fire with a pair of tongs. He was careful as he began to pour it on the inner most lines of the ground, leading into the Ward Stone's base. "Metal of the Moon, you Shall resonate with the Energies that you are known for." Pure Silver was not as easy as some people thought. Sickles, after all, were not pure silver.

Still, the Goblins were willing to work out an exchange for pure silver. It had been grossly in their favor, but Harry could afford it, at least this time.

There were a few other exotic properties that he worked with, pressing them either to the Ward Stone or letting them burn in the molten silver.

Finally, he went to the edge of the ground where a goat tied up to a post. "Millie." He said and watched as his elf dangled a carrot in front of it, making it move onto the carved ground. The goat's neck stretched for the carrot and Millie let it take a bite.

Harry picked up a steel machete from the ground and went over to the goat. He stroked its neck a moment as it took another bite. He pressed the Machete against its strained neck before he yanked hard, pressing the machete in deeper. It soundlessly bayed in pain and thrashed, Millie moving away quickly.

Harry watched, the machete dripping with its blood as he took a step back from the goat. He watched it bleed out, hunks of carrots mixed in with the blood. He felt he had to watch. He swallowed the bile that threatened to spill out of his mouth. He knew as the Pale Rider he would do worse things, but… the goat's eyes…

They were rather expressive.

Still, Harry watched from beginning until the end when the light finally died in the goat's eyes. It could be seen as cruel, but he felt as though he needed to witness the suffering of the animal, witness and respect it. He would never become a victim of the darkness that had claimed so many before him, so many necromancers that were weak of will.

He connected with the Wards and began to set to work charging and fixing them. "You can come out now Professor. Even you should know that you cannot hide from a Necromancer once they are charged with Death Magic."

Slowly, from the entrance to the Ward Hall, Albus Dumbledore walked out. He had a frown on his face and more importantly, the Elder Wand was in his hand and pointed at Harry. "So you admit to it?"

Harry turned to face the Headmaster, his chin held up defiantly. "I let you follow me Headmaster. Do not presume to think you fooled me. I knew where you were ever since the Third Floor. I could have stopped you should I have wished it." Harry said. He dared not disconnect from the Wards however as they worked the Death Magic inside their schemes.

"I cannot let this continue, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, keeping the Elder Wand up. Even with one arm, he was still a powerful Wizard, and would have no problem defeating Harry.

"But you cannot stop it Professor." Harry said firmly and defiantly. "I have been connected to Hogwarts in ways you cannot fathom Professor, ways you can only begin to guess at." Harry began to walk along the edge of the platform, forcing Dumbledore to walk alongside him.

Harry followed the blood filling up the grooves.

"When I killed that troll last year, Hogwarts responded." Harry said. He set the bloodied machete in a duffle bag and zipped it up. "Wards were charged, however briefly; wards that were in a desperate need to be charged."

"Harry you are playing with dangerous Magic." Dumbledore said. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes and his wand wavered a bit. Dumbledore felt compelled to stop him, even if it would hurt to stop the young child in front of him. It hurt just to point his wand at him, knowing Dumbledore was contemplating harmful spells.

"Be silent if you are going to act prejudice towards my Magic, Headmaster." Harry said sharply. "There is more to Necromancy than Gellert Grindelwald or Tom Riddle ever dared to fathom. Necromancy went into the construction of Hogwarts Wards. Nearly a thousand years ago, the Founders added more than what the Goblins did when they constructed this magnificent castle."

Harry stretched his arms out and spun slightly on his heels. "The Wards hum with life, Professor. Hogwarts, through her Wards, has become as close to sentient as she possible can be." He continued moving around the circle, following the blood. "And she has spent decades, crying out to any that would listen."

He held his arms out and stayed quiet. Slowly, building from the Orb in the center of the room was a low keen that Dumbledore had never heard before. His eyes widened at the sound he heard. It was so full of pain, so full of agony.

Harry came to the deceased goat and cut it free from the rope tying it to the post. "The Wards, Professor, are part of Hogwarts. Every Ward, from the Runic Wards to the Death Wards, every Ward is part of Her.

"We stretched her when we covered the lake, but Hogwarts recovered. We stretched her when the Wards went over to the Forbidden Forest. It hurt her, but she recovered. We hurt her more when we built the Quidditch Pitch and extended the Wards to cover that. She recovered.

"But then we did the unspeakable. We literally cut a piece from her when we didn't charge the Death Wards." Harry inclined his head to the pinned up sleeve of Dumbledore's robes. "It would be like cutting your arm off, as I'm sure you have realized.

"We have stretched Hogwarts so thin, and cut pieces from her, she is agony right now Professor. I am Heir Slytherin, I am Ward Master of Hogwarts." Harry held his head up defiantly, even as the humming of the charging wards slowly wore off, the ritual finished and completed. "I hear her Pain, Headmaster. It is my duty, my responsibility to help her.

"Yes, we've patched her up over the years, attempting to strengthen the Wards. But we've never replaced that Arm. I have the courage and the will to do so. I stare into the Abyss until the Abyss looks away, so do not presume to judge me!" Harry shouted the last bit. "I am not Gellert Grindelwald, I am not Tom Marvolo Riddle, I am Harry James Potter! And you, Professor Dumbledore, could not take me."

With that Harry snapped his fingers and a new ward rolled out over both of them. Dumbledore felt like a cold spider was crawling up his spine. "That sensation you're feeling, Professor? That's an Anti-Magic ward. Easy to disable from the outside, even easier to disable on the inside if you can generate enough force." Harry walked towards Dumbledore. "But right now, you're a frail old man without an arm."

Harry waved his hand and the ward went away. He held his chin up and unstrapped both his knife and wand and let them fall to the ground. "If you think it prudent, then take me in. I won't stop you." Harry said.

Dumbledore held his wand still pointed at Harry's chest. A Stunning Spell was in his mind, ready for his power to pulse to the Elder Wand. His Magic ran through him, ready to respond to the thought. But… he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to cast the Spell.

Slowly, the Elder Wand lowered and he tucked it into his robes. His head hung low as he thought of the darkness he was letting free on the world, that he wasn't able to cast the spell on. The thought of casting on a child was just too much to bear for the old professor.

Harry had banked on it and soon picked up his wand and knife. He strapped them back to his arms. "Millie, take the goat to be used for tomorrow night's dinner." Harry said, looking to the animal once more. He felt sorry that it had to be sacrificed like that, but it had been required.

Harry looked to the Ward Stone before he spoke again to Dumbledore. "You don't have to worry about me losing to the Darkness." He said. "After all, you made certain of that."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry turned to look at Dumbledore. His eyes were deadened, no longer the vibrant and glowing green. "You put me with the Dursley family after all."

Dumbledore's breath hitched slightly. He had hoped that Harry wouldn't find out about it. "How did you figure that out?" he asked.

"It took a bit." Harry admitted. "Between the interview Lucius Malfoy gave after the incident with Lockhart and knowing how you think for a brief period of time, I was able to connect the dots. You're responsible for a lot of pain in my life, a lot of problems."

Dumbledore felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut and twisted the knife around. He had never wanted to cause Harry pain. He just wanted him to be safe, he just wanted him taken care of and to be able to grow up away from the fame of being Voldemort's vanquisher.

He just wanted Harry to have a normal childhood.

Harry turned back towards the Ward Stone, staring into its glow for a while. He tightened his fists a moment. "Perhaps it was the insight into you that is making me like this." He said, holding his hand up. "From knowing how you think, at least briefly, I feel as though I should tell you this." He lowered his hand and sighed. "I trust you about as far as I can physically throw you Professor, do not mistake this for trusting you."

Harry once again turned to face his Headmaster. "You sent someone to collect me, someone that kept Sirius from taking me in. I have full faith that Sirius would have been able to raise me, to put away his need for revenge and raise me. Yet he chased after Pettigrew like a fool because you sent someone. You had to of.

"Then you placed me with the Dursley family. Did you never think to come physically check on me? I would have remembered you Professor, I would have remembered any magical. Yet from as early as I can remember to when I finally left, no one ever came."

"I had wards monitoring, I should have been alerted to any problems." Dumbledore said, trying to defend himself. "So long as you called it home, they would have alerted me."

"That's a weak defense and you know it Dumbledore." Harry said. "The biggest problem with your Wards was they were contingent upon something that never occurred. I never called that place Home. It was a prison, and nothing more. It was almost a Hell on Earth for me. That is not home. And if you think I'm exaggerating, go ahead and use your Legilimency upon me. Let me you show you my personal Hell."

Before he could stop himself on ethical grounds, Dumbledore raised his wand. "_Legilimens!"_

Dumbledore could only see darkness, walls pressed in upon his shoulders, his feet, even his head. He was in a cramped area where he couldn't see. His heart began to race, melded as he was with Harry's mind. His heart thumped loud enough he could hear it in his ears.

Then the words, a symphony of insults rolled into his ears, insults just for being a magical. But at the same time, Dumbledore didn't understand it. He couldn't understand it. And it clicked for him, he realized Harry had grown up not knowing about magic, but punished for his part in it anyway.

"Enough! Please!" He finally cried out and felt himself slammed back into his body.

Harry's features were stoic and he regarding Dumbledore without pity or remorse. "No amount of apologies can make up for what you put me through, Professor. When you finally have understanding of the Hell I put up with for eight years, then you can come talk to me." Harry walked out of the cavern without looking back.

He knew Millie would gather his things for him.

And as for Dumbledore? There was nothing more to be said between them… yet.

-**End Chapter-**

**A/N: To be completely honest, this chapter wrote itself out in the span of… six hours? Maybe seven?**

**And before anyone jumps on me about the graphic content of the sacrifice of the goat, please remember this story is rated M. **

**Happy Holidays Folks!**

**Hunter Berserker Wolf, signing off.**


	40. Book 2: Chapter 13

_Last Time: Harry has given general marching orders while he was incapacitated, and after charging the Wards of Hogwarts, he invited Dumbledore into his mind to see a taste of what he experienced at the Dursley family._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 13

"Gather round, gather round. Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me?" Gilderoy Lockhart proudly strutted along the tables put together into a dueling platform. He wore a dark blue silk cape over one shoulder with stars and moons glittering through it. He wore exquisite dragon hide gloves as well as a duelist vest made of fine acromantula silk. "Excellent." He said as he looked over the assembled students.

"In light of the recent attacks, the Headmaster has seen fit to allow me to start this little Dueling Club to train you all up to defend yourselves against whatever monster is prowling the corridors of Hogwarts." He said and offered his best charming smile to a group of young witches. "Of course, you can always come to me if you feel your life is in danger, I'd be more than happy to help.

"I had asked Professor Slughorn to assist me in this endeavor, but he said that he was busy working on brewing some rather complex potions. I'm afraid that I will have to teach you all by myself."

Just then the doors to the Great Hall banged open. "I'm afraid that won't happen Gilderoy." Flitwick proudly strode into the Great Hall in a set of black fitted robes that allowed little excess cloth. He flicked his wand at the end of the table and stones rose up to form a set of stairs.

Flitwick quickly walked up and onto the table. Despite coming only to Lockhart's waist, the diminutive Charms Professor held himself to seem larger in image than Lockhart. Flitwick looked every bit the many times Dueling Champion that he was.

"You see, Horace asked me to take his place. He felt so bad that the students wouldn't be able to get a proper Dueling education that he came to me. After all, it does take two to Duel properly." Flitwick said proudly. "And who better to teach all these young, eager minds than a man that has won the International Circuit many times over? I bet I could go in now and still make the top ten despite my age."

Lockhart seemed to falter a moment but soon he gave that arrogant smile. "Of course Filius, I'm so glad that you could make it. Perhaps we should give a brief demonstration?" He looked over the students, noting the adoration on their faces. "Not to worry, you'll still have your Charms Master when I am through with him." He stepped into his stand and tossed out the blue cape into a group of girls that led his fan club.

Flitwick gave a predatory grin that was not out of place on the Half-goblin professor. He was about to draw his wand when that grin turned larger. "I think not yet Gilderoy. I have proven my qualifications to Duel, and even have the half dozen or more rapiers to prove it, as such given to each Dueling Champion. You… frankly, do not. Fear not, my protégé has graciously agreed to come up here and duel you to prove your worth. After all, if you can beat a student trained by me, then you must be quite able to duel."

Again Lockhart faltered, but Flitwick was playing the man like a fiddle. "Alright Filius. You have a point, so bring your protégé, which of the Seventh years am I facing?"

"Mr. Potter, front and center."

Harry leapt up from the side of the table. His own smirk in place on his lips. He wore a tight fitting black sweater and a pair of athletic pants. It was the clothes he had worn on the heist in Milan, minus his Deathly Artifacts of course. His wand and his knife were strapped to his forearms.

"You surely jest Filius, a Second year is your protégé?" Lockhart asked. In truth, the man wasn't sure if he wanted to face Harry in a test of combat. He was honestly fearful of the young Potter scion.

"Who better than someone I can mold from the ground up?" Flitwick said and he patted Harry's back. "Don't hold back on his account."

Harry's smirk widened a bit more.

Lockhart got some of his swagger back into his form. He could do this. He could beat a second year, no matter how well trained. "I'm sure Filius has taught you the etiquette, but first, why don't we make it interesting? If I win, you will come to my classes and attend each of the detentions I have assigned you. I'm sure your weekend plans can wait until you have finished."

Harry inclined his head. "Very well. And should I win, you will stop attempting to get me to come to your classes or detentions. You'll stop attempting to get the other Professors to help you as well. After all, should I win, I will prove I have no need for you."

"Agreed. Now first, we bow." Lockhart flicked his willow wand up, a sharp wish through the air as he held it up in front of his face. He bowed to Harry, taking his eyes off of him.

Big mistake.

Flitwick had not told Lockhart to not hold back. Flitwick had told Harry to not hold back. And that was precisely what Harry did.

His knife flicked out of its sheath and he spun it around his fingers. He then threw it with everything he had, embedding it into the soft fleshy part of Lockhart's right shoulder. The man's wand dropped as he screamed in pain.

Harry was already there, having run after the knife. He delivered a hard right punch to Lockhart's ribs, getting the man to bend over. Harry brought his hands to Lockhart's head and he grabbed the man's blonde hair and he brought his right knee up. The crunch of Lockhart's breaking nose against his knee was most satisfying.

Lockhart writhed making gurgling sounds and trying to reach for his nose and the knife at the same time.

"You three, take Gilderoy to the hospital wing and leave him with Madam Pomfrey. She'll fix him." Flitwick said, motioning to the students that had caught the cape. Such actions were… unacceptable to him.

He began to walk along the dueling platform. "I am not here to teach you how to Duel." He said, tucking his hands in the small of his back. "Dueling takes much more practice than I can give this many people in such a short period of time. Whatever is attacking the students of Hogwarts is not going to respect the Dueling etiquette, so I will not be teaching it. Should you bow to whatever it is that is attacking the Students, you deserve whatever you have coming." Flitwick said bluntly.

There was some muttering amongst the students at the words. They were harsh and they hadn't expected them from the rather soft spoken and gentle Flitwick.

"I am teaching you to defend yourself. Professor Lockhart was not ready to defend himself, and he paid for it against Mr. Potter. In thirty second, Mr. Potter had disarmed Lockhart and quite effectively put him on his arse."

Flitwick turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, please demonstrate the first option for defending yourself against an attacker." He said as he started to draw his wand.

Harry turned and bolted off the tables and out of the Great Hall, much to the amusement of the students there.

Flitwick had amused smile on his face even. He raised his wand and let out a bang with it to summon Harry back. "Mr. Potter was quite correct. The first option to defend yourself against an attacker is simply run away. There is no shame it, and it has nothing to be with bravery. You only fight if you absolutely have to.

"Mr. Potter, please show method two on how to defend yourself." Flitwick said, his wand out. He went through a brief three chain spell, using stunners and immobilizers.

Harry dodged out of the way and aimed his wand. "_Bombarda!" _He declared, sending a Blasting Hex at Flitwick, making the diminutive teacher shield. But just as the Hex hit, Harry was off running out the Great Hall again, still to the amusement of the students.

"Mr. Potter is quite right, once more." Flitwick said with a chuckle before he let off a bang with his wand. "The second best option is to create an opening that will give you a chance to run away. Run away, contact the Aurors. Aurors are trained to handle these situations. Let them."

Harry leapt back up onto the table and rolled his shoulders.

"The last method to defend yourself is to actually fight back. But realize that this puts you in danger of being hurt, of being killed. That is the reality of things." Flitwick said and paused, letting it sink into the students. "Some of you are confident, some of you are cocky in your abilities. You know your skill set. But if you cannot run, if you cannot afford to run, then you are faced with the last option and you must commit yourself to it. Mr. Potter, if you will."

Harry nodded and readied himself, drawing his wand.

Flitwick opened up with a quick barrage of spell fire. His wand flicked, swished, and slashed through the air with speed and precision, chaining spell after spell together.

Harry threw up an icy barrier and pushed it at the Diminutive professor. Lances of ice formed at the sides before spearing forward at him. When the chunks of ice popped out, Harry dodged to the side of the spells, spinning around them. He ducked under them, swiftly coming back to his full height. He cast slashes of air that split follow up spells apart.

Flitwick danced across the table top, spinning and redirecting Harry's spells right back at him when he could. The Charms Professor used unorthodox tactics and spells that weren't harmful but distracting. Even a Patronus was thrown in, the ethereal raven rushing at Harry to distract him

Harry moved around, refusing to be hit by the spells. He threw up barriers when he needed, pressing the attack. His wand flicked out and embers shot out. While not a particularly powerful, or effective, flame spell, it was still worthwhile if he caught his opponent's clothes on fire. A scimitar of ice formed in his left hand and he used it to cut through the Patronus, moving forward at Flitwick.

The two went through their battle. A barrier flashed every few seconds around the table, every time a projectile or stray spell slammed into it. It kept the students safe. The battle was fierce and fast.

"Enough!" Flitwick eventually cried out.

Harry paused in his advance and let the scimitar dissolve. He tucked his wand away.

"Excellent job Mr. Potter." Flitwick said before turning around to look at the assembled students. "If you have to fight, fight with everything you have. Every dirty trick you can think of. In a fight, there is no honor to be had, so fight dirty."

Harry coughed into his hand slightly.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked.

"I didn't give everything I had Professor. Two of my spells aren't really suitable for a friendly spar like that." He said.

Flitwick narrowed his eyes. "You've been holding out on me Mr. Potter, you haven't used these two in any of our Duels."

"No Sir, they're not exactly suitable for Dueling. They take a bit to recite."

"An actual battle incantation Mr. Potter? Well now… I'm quite curious. Would you like to give a Demonstration?"

Harry nodded and went to the other side of the table and turned to face Flitwick. The diminutive professor was over fifty yards away. Harry raised his right hand to the sky, he didn't bother with his wand.

"Can you give me a target Professor?" Harry asked as he began to channel his magic. Lightning Magic was one of his weaker branches, but he was working hard on this spell. He could probably channel… Three volleys.

Flitwick swished his wand and a stone Gargoyle sprang up from the ground and onto the table.

Harry inhaled. Blue electricity crackled along his fingertips as he kept his hand up. "If you don't mind, I won't recite the full incantation. I don't want someone to try it and get hurt." He said, his voice a little gravely as he built his magic up in his hand.

"Shine brightly when aimed, scatter the Dust and fire cleanly!" He spoke loudly and clearly. That blue electricity playing along his hand began to spread outwards, the wards around the table that Harry asked Hogwarts to erect sparked with his power. "God Spear!" He swung his arm down, stretching the electricity before he brought his arm back like it was a javelin.

He then threw it and it blasted forward, rocketing through the stone gargoyle's center. The next shot took the head of the Gargoyle and warped the Ward. The last volley blasted the stone apart completely and shattered the barrier, a bolt of electricity zipping to blast a clean hole into Hogwarts wall.

Harry breathed heavily, his hand smoldering slightly. If it wasn't for the thick build of his magic, he would have likely burned his hand from the electricity. But it was a spell he was definitely working on.

War, once she tapped into her Electrical Elemental, would be able to use the God Spear spell with nothing but those two words and throw twelve volleys with nothing but a flick of her fingers.

It still wasn't that practical for Harry, but it was a harder hitting spell.

He looked to the still sizzling hole then to Professor Flitwick. "Too much?" He asked.

-_**Scene Break-**_

It was the last week of November and Harry was practically pulling his hair out of his head. Two more attacks had occurred with three more petrified. He still couldn't figure out what was doing it, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

All he knew was whoever the False Heir was, he was getting pissed about it.

Justin Finch-Fletchley, Sir Nicholas, and Penelope Clearwater had all been petrified. Whatever it was that was petrifying the students, could also petrify Ghosts which made him start looking at Necromantic creatures, but nothing came to mind showed the ability to petrify.

Outright kill, but not petrify.

Harry was missing an important piece of the puzzle and he wasn't sure where to begin to look for the thing.

He was outside in the snow, looking up to the setting sun as he thought. People still regarded him with outright suspicion. He knew that essentially they were just scared, but… It was still getting irksome. It was slowly getting worse and if the attacks didn't stop soon, he was worried that someone might do something drastic.

He worried his thumb between his teeth, grinding his teeth against the nail. The frequency of attacks was also concerning. At the rate they were going, someone was going to die.

And he felt like it was his fault.

"There has to be a connection between them all." He said. He had climbed up into a tree and leaned against the tree branches that he had nestled inside of. Despite the snow, being up high was quite soothing. He knew he could get out of the tree before anyone could get up to him.

"Maybe… Maybe I'm going about this wrong." He said. There was some environmental factor he was missing.

Colin had his camera. Justin had been behind Sir Nicholas, facing the ghost that had been petrified. Penelope had been holding a small hand mirror.

What did these things have to do with his monster?

He sat up sharply. "They looked at it indirectly." He whispered. "No… yes… What about Mrs. Norris?" It was driving him nuts, he thought he had found a connection. But he couldn't figure it out. He had worked the puzzle differently. "What about Mrs. Norris?" He squeezed the tree branch tightly.

"She was posed." Harry said. "She wasn't petrified there. She was posed there so that a message could be sent."

A message that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.

"The water." When Harry had stalked off, he had noticed that the second floor had been flooded. Mrs. Norris would of course check it out, whether to tell Filch or to drink it, she'd see the water. And that would reflect back to her eyes.

He leapt out of the tree and landed in a roll in the snow. "They're not looking directly at it. So the monster couldn't petrify them." Harry was well versed of the story of Medusa, Mythology proved that a petrification wouldn't occur through a reflection.

The fact it had been the method for hunting Gorgons and Cockatrices for centuries because of it did not escape his mind either.

"So they're not looking directly at it, and the gaze has to be powerful enough to make them suffer ill effects anyways. Something with a killing gaze is here at Hogwarts." Harry put his hand to his neck where the Cowl was. That unfortunately extended his list exponentially.

A lot of creatures had a gaze capable of killing.

His train of thought was derailed when the Wards tripped along his mind. He quickly scrambled up the tree again and hung from it. He watched a group of four Aurors with the Minister walking up the path. They were heading towards Hagrid's hut.

Harry frowned and dropped down again. He had an idea what this was about and it was not going to fly, not with him. He began to stalk towards the hut as well, using long and purposeful strides. They were looking for a scapegoat for the fear everyone was having, but they were not going to do so. Especially not one that Harry had sponsored into getting his Care of Magical Creature mastery.

"Look, Hagrid's record is against him. We have to take him away." Fudge said, clearly trying to sway someone.

"Take me? Take me where?" Hagrid asked, his voice booming. Harry moved quicker.

"Just for a small stretch you understand, we have to be seen doing something."

"Not Azkaban." Hagrid's words came out as a strangled croak. It was clearly that the man was terrified.

"It's not a punishment, it's a precaution." Fudge said. "Should someone else be brought up, you'll be let out with our full apologies on the matter."

"Absolutely not!" Harry barked out as he strode up to the opened door. He stood defiantly in the doorframe, even as the Aurors turned with their wands trained, ready to defend the Minister.

"Harry?" Hagrid whispered softly.

Harry strode into the house, pressing his chest to one of the wands. A flick of his fingers sent the door closed. The place was cramped with all the people in the house but there wasn't anything Harry could do about it. "Rubeus Hagrid's record is not against him Minister." Harry said firmly, ignoring the look from Dumbledore.

"But he was expelled because of- "

"Poor circumstances." Harry said firmly. "Yes, Mr. Hagrid was expelled for keeping a dangerous animal inside the castle. But it wasn't what killed the girl fifty years ago. An Acromantula would have partially devoured the body, there wasn't a mark on the girl according to the autopsy report."

Fudge looked a little green at the thought and even Hagrid looked a little woozy. Dumbledore stood in the back, watching Harry carefully.

"I would have thought that the circumstances would have been better reviewed, but I suppose some leniency has to be taken into account with the time period." Harry said. "I would have spoken to the Care of Magical Creatures Professor at the time, and they could have confirmed what I have said regarding an Acromantula."

"Then have you figured out what it could be, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes holding a sparkle to them that seemed like he knew that Harry had.

Harry looked to Dumbledore. "Something with a Killing Gaze, Headmaster. Not an Acromantula. Not enough evidence. But each of the victims had gotten an indirect glance, the sole exception being Sir Nicholas who was already deceased. Hundreds of hunts on Gorgons and Cockatrices tell us to fight using their reflection, that they won't be able to petrify you indirectly. So it told me that there had to be a stronger gaze."

Harry returned his gaze to Fudge, his emerald green eyes alight like there was a flame behind them. "Mrs. Norris was likely drawn to a flooding on the second floor where she would have caught a reflection in the water. Mr. Creevy looked at it through his camera. The camera is scrapped, but it saved his life. Mr. Finch-Fletchley looked through Sir Nicholas, and Sir Nicholas took the full effect of the gaze, but he can't be killed twice. Ms. Clearwater was found with a small hand mirror."

Harry moved past the Auror, closer to Fudge. "You take Mr. Hagrid away, and you're taking an innocent man to Azkaban. I wonder how the public will take the fact you held a second innocent man in that place. There's no such thing as a low security wing, so Mr. Hagrid will be in with the Dementors."

Fudge paled and looked absolutely green as he stared at the intense gaze of the emerald orbs. He swallowed heavily and nodded, rotating his bowler hat. "Right you are, Mr. Potter." He croaked out carefully. "Hagrid, I'd like to extend my personal and most sincere apologies for this inconvenience." He said, his throat tight. "Let's go," he told the Aurors before they all moved for the door.

Just as they made for the door, there was a sharp rapping upon it and it opened to reveal Lucius Malfoy. Harry's eyes narrowed at the all too pleased look on the Elder Malfoy's face. His sneer was condescending, even as he passed Harry and the Aurors. Two of the Aurors shifted outside, the area getting entirely too cramped for them all.

"What're you doin' here!? Get outta my house!" Hagrid roared out,

"Please believe me dear man, I have no pleasured being in…." Lucius sneered as he looked around with distaste. "Do you call this a house?" he muttered. "However, I was informed that the Headmaster was here."

Lucius held out a sealed scroll to the Headmaster. "That is a Writ of Dismissal, signed by all twelve members of the Board of Governors." His confident smirk was at its best. "What with all the attacks on the Muggleborns, they feel as though you are losing your touch."

Fudge paled even more considerable. "Now see here Lucius, the loss of Dumbledore would- "

"I'm afraid that's a matter for the Governors, Minister, as the appointment or dismissal of Headmaster always has been." Lucius said in an oily tone.

"Yeh can' take Dumbledore away!" Hagrid bellowed out. "With him gone the Muggleborns won' stand a chance. Mark my words, there'll be killin's next."

"Calm yourself Hagrid." Dumbledore said. "If the Governors wish my removal, then I will of course oblige and step down from the Post of Headmaster." Dumbledore said. He glanced over to Harry a moment and then looked back at Lucius.

He then swept past and out without another word. No other word was needed on the matter. There was no grand speech about how he would truly never be gone from Hogwarts, simply brushing the matter off like it was nothing. Like Lucius hadn't gotten under his skin.

But Harry had known how Dumbledore thought for a time, and while it had worn off a long time ago, he knew that Dumbledore was furious and looked to get to the bottom of the events.

"Harry, yeh gotta do somethin'!" Hagrid pleaded, stepping forward as though he meant to stop Dumbledore from leaving.

Harry reached out and placed his hand against the larger man's stomach, splaying his hand out. "Calm yourself, Hagrid." Harry said and he glanced up to the half-giant man. "I've done all I can, and extended my current reach as far as I can, just keeping you here. There is currently nothing I can do in regards to the Headmaster. All we can do is get to the bottom of this."

"I'll help anyway I can." Hagrid assured the young Potter scion as the other 'guests' of Hagrid's hut began to file out.

Harry frowned as the door closed and he waited until the Wards told him that people had left. He turned to look at Hagrid. "I need some information Hagrid, and it will probably dredge up some bad memories." At Hagrid's nod, Harry continued. "Who was the girl that died? I need a full name, preferably, but First and Last name will work just as well. The public reports I read kept her name out of them at the behest of the parents."

"Er- I…" Hagrid stroked his thick beard a moment, closing his eyes. "That's a hard question Harry." The man ran his hands up through his hair. "Let's see here… Well, there was Tom Riddle, He caught me with Aragog. The Headmaster, Dipped… No Dippet. He was the one to snap my wand. Olivander… he watched, makin' sure everythin' went right, I'd reckon."

"Think back a little more Hagrid. Back to your classes. You must have had at least one class with her, or seen her Sorting."

"Yeh… Er… Little mousy thin'" He said. "Kinda like that Hermione Granger girl. She was… a 'Claw. Didn' have classes with her. She was a Fifth Year while I was in my Third." Hagrid scratched as his scalp through his thick hair. "Name started with an M… Lotta people makin' fun of her. She cried…"

Harry frowned. If she was a Ravenclaw, Flitwick might be able to help. Of course, Slughorn was also teaching at that time, but he knew time was of the essence. If he could get Hagrid to spit the name out, he could go about seeing if he could summon her from beyond the grave.

It would be dangerous and he'd be breaking one of the tenants of being a Necromancer, raising a murdered soul and all, but he had a powerful flame spell more than capable of incinerating a zombie in one go.

Hagrid smacked one meaty ham like fist into another, a loud boom sounding. "Mallon. Myrtle Mallon. Everyone called her Moanin' Myrtle. She cried cause she lost people durin' that war, the Muggle one."

"World War 2." Harry said and frowned. "Hagrid was Ms. Mallon a Muggleborn?"

"Yeh, I'd reckon so. Half-blood at the least."

"Thanks!" Harry said and he bolted out of Hagrid's hut, making sure that the door shut behind him. He rushed towards the castle, he couldn't afford to be caught out of bounds. But at the same time, he had a monster to stop.

He raced up the Grand Stair case, jumping as the Stairs started to move. He rolled with it and sprang himself up to the landing. He landed on his feet and kept going. He skidded to a hard stop and slammed into a door.

"Moaning Myrtle…" Harry frowned a bit and he looked down at the Second Floor. "I don't believe in coincidences." He said as he walked down from the Third Floor to the Second. He went towards the Girls' Lavatory that no one seemed to use.

The reason: a Ghost by the name of Moaning Myrtle.

Harry strode in, the door swinging open with a loud bang. He began to draw up his Deathly Aura. This was a dangerous spot. "Myrtle!" He called out loudly. He heard a small shriek and a splash, water coming from the stalls along the floor.

A flick of his hand sent the door to the lavatory closed. "Myrtle Mallon, I would speak with you." Harry said. He was in full blown Death personality.

From the floor the Bloody Baron himself rose up and held his sword out to Harry. "We have respectfully kept our distance." He rasped out. "But I cannot stand idle while you threaten the Youngest of Us."

Harry raised his chin at the Baron. "Step aside, Gladius, I will not be impeded. Not even by family."

The sword wavered a bit as Baron Gladius Peverell was reminded of his name in life. "I will not let you Devour her!" He said even as the sword shook in his hands, the chains on his wrists rattling.

"I do not seek to devour Myrtle Mallon, I seek answers and I will have them Baron. Now step aside, before I have to take Drastic Measures."

A head poke out from one of the stalls, showing a mousy looking teenage girl with glasses and dark hair. She wore Ravenclaw colors and slowly came out of the stall. She looked pale and frightened, even for a Ghost. "W-what do you want?" She asked, giving a soft sniff.

Harry stepped back slightly from the Baron and held his hands out low and to his sides. He didn't want to frighten her. That had never been his intention. "Ms. Mallon, I need your help. You were the victim the last time the Chamber opened. What do you remember?"

"Oh it was absolutely dreadful." Myrtle said, bringing her hands up to her face. "No one has ever asked me about how I died." She gave a swooning noise

Harry felt a shudder run down his spine, but pushed the feeling away. Still, he would make sure to stay away from the teenaged Ghost in the near future.

"I was hiding in here from Olive Hornberry who had been making fun of my glasses when I heard a boy's voice speaking in some sort of language. I opened the door to tell him to 'go away' and then I died. My whole body seized up and I floated away."

Definitely a Killing Gaze then. "What else?" Harry asked.

"I don't remember much, just a pair of great big yellow eyes over there." Myrtle said, motioning towards the sink.

Harry turned to look at the sink and began to circle around it.

"All students are to return to their Dormitories at once, the staff is to go to the Great Hall, immediately!" McGonagall's voice rang through the halls.

Harry looked to the sink and then swore. He took off running, but he wasn't going to the Dormitories. He had to make it to the Great Hall. He had information for the Staff. He might have found the entrance to the Chamber.

He raced along towards the side entrance and skidded to a halt at the open door. He was about to barge in when he heard it.

"A student seems to have been taken by the monster." McGonagall said to the assembled Staff. "We'll have to send the students home immediately and call the Aurors. This looks to be the end of Hogwarts." She gave a sniffle.

Harry pushed himself against the wall and looked through the cracked door. In large, jagged, blood red letters across the front of the Great Hall was written 'Her Skeleton will lie in the chamber forever.'

"Who was it Minerva?" Flitwick asked as he floated by the letters on a platform of stone, looking for clues.

Minerva heaved a heavy sigh. She looked to Professor Sprout with something that looked like a mix of an apology and pity, and something else that Harry couldn't understand.

"Susan Bones."

-**End Chapter-**

**A/N: Y'all didn't think I was just going to give one chapter for the Holidays, did you? Hell no.**

**There we have it folks, Susan has Tom Riddle's diary.**

**Until Next Chapter!**


	41. Book 2: Chapter 14

_Last Time: Dumbledore has been dismissed from his post as Headmaster and Susan Bones has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets just as Harry has found a clue to its location_

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 14

Harry raced back towards the Grand Staircase and started to race up them. His mind whirled. Susan had been taken. She had been taken into the Chamber by the False Heir. He tightened his hands into fists, digging his nails in until the skin burst and blood seeped out between his fingers. Unacceptable.

It seemed he would be storming Hell after all.

"Harry?" Hannah was at the Fifth Floor, coming down as he was racing up. "What's going on?" she asked him, her eyes wide at the sight of his angry visage.

Harry debated her coming with, but finally he motioned her back up the stairs. "Come on. I'll brief you as we move." He said sharply as he continued to go up the stairs. Every second was precious, and he couldn't argue with Hannah to not follow or to not help.

Susan was her friend as well.

"Susan was taken into the Chamber by the Monster. I've worked out that it actually has a Killing Gaze, I'd stake my life on it even." Harry said as he continued running. Hannah brought up the rear, keeping up on sheer adrenaline. "I think I even figured out where the Chamber is, and I plan to go get our friend back." He said.

Hannah panted as they raced up the two flights of stairs to the Room of Requirement. "Shouldn't you tell a teacher?" she asked.

"No time, plus I'm better equipped to handle anything with a Killing Gaze than them." He said as he paced back and forth three times and then barreled into the room. He went to a trunk he had brought in that kept his Deathly Artifacts and kicked it open. The Gauntlet went onto his left hand and he threw the Invisibility cloak around his shoulders.

Hannah came over to him and breathed out. "Have you figured out what it is that's attacking the students?" she asked, panting still. She wasn't as conditioned to run as Harry had been.

Harry held his hand out and watched the Harvester slither onto the Gauntlet. He went to the bookshelf and yanked off three journals. He began to flip through them and paused on the first one. "Balthazar." He said, tapping the masculine writing. "Salazar Slytherin set up Balthazar as a defender inside the Chamber, tied to the Wards of Hogwarts even."

"Okay." Hannah asked, looking at the metal gauntleted finger. "What is Balthazar?"

Harry frowned and began to flip through the three journals more. He sped through the pages, just looking for hints, anything that could tell him what it was. Finally, his finger tapped onto a page. "The Spiders have fled the castle with Balthazar's hatching. I knew it would happen, but it still means that other pests have started to overrun the castle. I will have to secure Balthazar away, especially since Helga has been complaining. She often uses the thicker spider webs as medical bandages. It should be a fairly simple task, the old catacombs should do nicely. I will convince Balthazar to go there."

Harry frowned and began to pursue the bookshelf again. He needed to know what sort of creature Balthazar was. He grabbed a book on Magical Creatures and began to flip through the pages. "Spiders… spiders… spiders… "

Finally he found a page. "Oh… Well that's a problem." Harry said and the puzzle began to click into place. Hagrid's roosters being killed off, the voices he had heard in the walls, the spiders he had seen leaving the castle. It was all clicking into place.

Now he just needed to find out who the False Heir was.

"A basilisk? It's a bloody basilisk?" Hannah asked, going pale beside Harry.

Harry snapped the book shut and inhaled. "Doesn't change a thing." He said and moved out of the Room of Requirement. Hannah was quick to run after him.

It was a Basilisk. That made it much more dangerous than Harry had initially thought. But it changed nothing. His friend was down there, inside the Chamber with the Serpent King. He'd just have to watch out for the fangs. That was a doable thing.

The two Second Years came to the Second Floor girls' lavatory and Harry strode in purposefully. "Turn the spigots on." He said as he began to turn them on, water pouring into the sinks.

Hannah was quick to follow him and with the exception of one, they were all flowing freely. "Is this the entrance?" Hannah asked.

"I have a good feeling on it. Step back." Harry said and pointed his wand at the sinks. He began to push his Deathly Aura up until the air around him started to turn frosty. "I won't use the full incantation, but be careful. The area damage is something to watch for." He said.

"Absolute End!" He roared out before blasting the running water with a spell.

The effect was instant. The water froze and suddenly all the spigots froze over. Ice crept up the small structure, and began to form over it, Harry's spell freezing the rushing water in the pipes running through it. It crept along the air, freezing even that.

Harry flicked his wand at the structure. "_Bombarda Maxima!" _The overpowered Blasting Hex ripped through the ice, sending frozen hunks of ice, ceramic, metal, and glass all over the place. Harry's erected wall of ice kept him from being impaled by any of it and he stepped towards the gaping hole in the ground.

"Alright, what's the plan here Harry?" Hannah asked as she stepped up beside Harry. She held her wand tightly in one hand.

"You stay here, I go down, stop Balthazar, save Susan, find out who the False Heir is and beat him black and blue. Preferably in that order. Any questions?"

Hannah turned a bit in front of Harry. "Yeah, why am I not going down there? I'll survive the venom, you won't Harry." She said. "You said so yourself, that I'd survive the venom, you need me down there."

"You'd get in the way." Harry said bluntly. "You have no combat training, yet. You have no weapon aside from your wand, which might as well be the equivalent of throwing pebbles at its magically resistant scales. And you are not immune to the Basilisk's gaze. My Cowl grants me that immunity. I can focus more on dodging the fangs than you can trying to dodge it while not looking at its head."

Hannah made a sound of frustration. "Susan's my best friend Harry!" she shouted.

"And you won't be doing nothing, Hannah. You have a job just as important as mine." Harry barked at her, watching her flinch at the angry tone that he used on her.

Harry composed himself and straightened his spine and squared his shoulders. "If I'm not back in thirty minutes, you get the Professors. You tell them what it is, you bring them here." Harry didn't bother saying how if he died it would be a moot point anyways, but he had to believe that he could do this.

He would save his friend.

Harry moved towards the gaping hole in the floor and stood on the edge. He swallowed, feeling like his heart was trying to leap into his throat. It was big enough for a basilisk to go through unimpeded, but it still looked like it narrowed on the way down, and with his claustrophobia…

He had to do this.

"Harry," Hannah caught his attention and he glanced over his shoulder at the blonde Hufflepuff. 'You have twenty minutes." She said firmly.

Harry nodded and looked back to the darkness before stepping in and starting to slide downwards. He bent his knees so that he slid down on his shoes and he reached back with the Gauntlet to slow his descent, digging the metal into the piping as he went lower and lower.

The descent took maybe a minute and Harry fell into a pile of rocks and bones. He heard them crunch beneath his feet and he glanced around. Slowly, he walked towards the shed snake skin and touched it. By his estimate, the basilisk would be quite large. And that was if it was a fairly fresh skin.

If it wasn't…

Harry turned and took off at a brisk jog down the hallway. He came to a circular door with a dozen or so silver snakes extended from the center. He shook his head at it. "_Open." _He hissed out and watched the snake rotate around the door. "Come on, come on, come on." He said. He was on a time table here.

When it opened, he sprinted into the chamber beyond, taking note of what he was looking at. It was dank, dark, and had a lot of green stones. It was dimly lit around the pillars and towards the head it opened up with large braziers with flames. A giant head stood off at the far wall, a pool of water in front of it.

And on the ground, was a certain redhead Hufflepuff.

Harry sprinted forward, coming into a slide. "Sue!" He shouted, lifting her up into his arms. She seemed lifeless, limp. She was pale and cold and Harry felt his blood turn to ice. "No, no… no, no, no. Wake up Sue, wake up." He said shaking her lightly.

But she wasn't waking, she wasn't so much as shifting. "Come on Sue, I need you to wake up. We need to get out of here!" Harry shook her a little more violently as he got louder.

If he failed, if she died... Died because he had failed to work out the puzzle… He knew he'd become the sort of monster Dumbledore feared him to become.

"She won't wake." The sound of an articulate male voice came from the side and Harry turned his gaze to look at what was undoubtedly a Seventh Year Prefect. The cut and style of the clothes reminded Harry of what Myrtle's ghost wore. They were different than what the students wore now.

Harry slowly rose to his feet, setting Susan back down on the ground. He looked into the eyes of the student, a pair of blue eyes that seemed so cold, so predatory. Harry knew instinctively he was looking at his False Heir.

Slowly, he stepped over Susan and stood between her body and the newcomer. "And you are?' He asked. He could feel the vibrations of the Harvester in the Dominion Gauntlet. He was pissed, and he felt a gut twinge from this person.

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, a pleasure to make your acquaintance Harry Potter." Tom took a step forward, offering a hand to Harry.

Harry extended the Harvester into its full scythe and he spun it around, slashing through Riddle. But it did nothing, Riddle's form wasn't fully corporeal. "Riddle…" Harry spat venomously. "Or should I call you by that fake name you gave yourself…. Voldemort?"

"Most curious." Riddle said, a smile on his face. He touched where he had been slashed. "Quite the interesting weapon you have there Harry. I wonder where you got it. I almost felt that." He patted where he was still whole and hale and his smile turned even bigger. "And you already know who I became. Most fascinating. I almost wrote you off. But it seems you're more interesting than I gave you credit. How did you know who I am?"

"I've already taken care of several of your Horcruxes Tom." Harry said, glad to see the smile wiped from Riddle's face. Harry held up his right hand, showing off the Resurrection Stone upon his index finger. "Or does it not look familiar?"

Riddle clucked his tongue, annoyance now written on his features. "While pleasing to know my theory of multiple Horcruxes seems to have worked, you are quite irksome if you have already destroyed even one of them."

Harry smirked a bit. "I've seen to the destruction of four. And when I find the anchor of the worthless Specter in front of me? I'll destroy it too."

Riddle frowned now. "Six, just a little shy of my envisioned seven. I wonder if there is one you've missed."

"If there is one more, I'll destroy that one too." Harry said. He would rid the world of the plague that was Riddle. "You're nothing but a cockroach Riddle, refusing to die when you should have. You insult everything that I am. You're nothing special."

Riddle's frown deepened before he had a condescending sneer upon his face. "Special enough that you never noticed." He said. "Never even occurred to you that Susan Bones was my vessel. Is it I, Harry Potter, that is nothing? Or is it you? I should be thanking you even. Without your help, I might have had to wait longer to get to this stage of my plan." He said pleased.

Harry narrowed his eyes and spun the scythe around the press against his back, the blade of the Harvester pointed to the ground. "What are you on about Riddle?"

Riddle looked down to Susan and smirked a bit. "Hufflepuffs, Harry, so predictable. Always willing to do the work no matter how long it takes." He moved about Harry, slowly circling. "You see, my diary was meant to be written in and I was able to write back and even show my memories through it. Memories of events regarding the Chamber of Secrets.

"A faithful servant had started to write in it, curiosity getting the better of him. I should have taken him over, then and there as punishment, but…" Riddle shrugged his shoulders. "He made a valid point, his money funded my campaign apparently, and could do so again. But I needed a body to start my campaign. My Horcrux could supply that body. He slipped it in with the things of a young girl after a few careful modifications. It wouldn't do to have my diary to run out of pages.

"But then the most unexpected thing started to occur. The girl didn't use it as a diary. I was expecting to listen to the drivel of a young girl, dealing with who she had a crush on, the fact her classes weren't going the way she expected, detentions scrubbing some cauldron. Dreary things truthfully, things I have dreaded the past fifty years. Instead, my diary landed in the hands of Susan Bones, a studious young Hufflepuff. She wrote out careful notes every day, she worked on her essays, every day. It wouldn't do to absorb her words and write to back to her. It might frighten her and set my plan back.

"Every night, after she went to bed, I would start to absorb the words, absorbing a little piece of Susan every day. And I would… tweak her work. Start pushing myself back into Susan. I have the mind of an exceptionally gifted fifth year, Prefect as well. I made her essays just a little bit better, slowly transferring myself to her.

"And then an amazing thing happened, Harry. Susan started to write about rituals. Necromancy." Riddle smiled a sadistic and pleased smile. "She's learning from someone, or studying the books herself. Not so lily white as she usually appears, is she Harry?"

Harry smirked a little bit. "You're a little late to be revealing anything big, Tommy boy. I was teaching her Necromancy. She is a necromancer, unlike yourself who merely dabbles in the Death Arts, she was born to do it."

Though annoyed at the barb, Riddle held himself better over it. "Truly fascinating. You? I would not expect you to be the one to teach her. You're so young yourself. But I suppose it also makes sense." Riddle said as he moved back around to the side where the still water was. "She doesn't seem to have the heart to make a human sacrifice. No matter, once I've obtained her magical power, the power of a Necromancer as my own, I won't need Susan Bones. I'll kill as many humans as it takes to obtain supreme power."

"Even if Susan dies here, you won't live for it to happen." Harry said as he spun the scythe around and felt it shift into a spear. He lashed out with the Harvester through Riddle's chest, but it just phased right through. Still not solid enough to take damage.

"Oh the more you use that weapon, the more fascinated I get by it." Riddle said, touching his chest where he had been speared through. "Shape changing abilities, a touch of something darker to it…" Riddle looked to the Harvester. "Is it alchemy that made the weapon? Perhaps I should start dabbling in it, pay that fool Flamel a visit. I'll have to take the weapon from your corpse and study it."

"You'll have to kill me first Riddle." Harry said. Since he was making no headway against Riddle, he turned and gently checked on Susan. She was getting cooler. He placed his fingers against her neck, checking for a pulse.

It was there… but it was so slow. She was dying.

"And I plan to." Riddle said. His tone was that cold confidence that had brought forth Voldemort. There was no need to play the silver tongued devil. Just as there had been no need with Dumbledore who had gotten a glimpse of the real Riddle, it would just be wasted upon Harry.

Riddle was planning to kill him in moments anyways.

"But there is one thing nagging at me, one little niggling nugget of information that my very being is demanding to hear. How is it that you survived that Halloween? No matter where I searched while I possessed Susan and sent my pet along to possibly kill someone, I just couldn't find out how you survived. And please don't say something along the lines of 'love' and make me wretch."

"But it was love." Harry said, standing up with a smirk.

Riddle rolled his eyes. "Oh not you too. I've had this argument with Dumbledore more times than I cared to commit to memory."

"An act of a mother's love." Harry reiterated. "Mixed with brilliance and desperation. Sacrificial magic mixed with a touch of warding and blood magic. Most, highly illegal in the British Isles. She used herself as the sacrifice, and you as the Priest." Harry said with a smirk. "The wards caused your spell to rebound with little damage to myself." Harry tapped his forehead.

Not exactly true, but it made for a good lie.

Riddle looked momentarily surprised. "Oh. Well then, I had not expected such a thought out explanation. Ritualistic magic mixed with Warding and Blood Magic? Fascinating. Your mother truly was a genius Harry to have figured that all out, it is truly a shame that she crossed me instead of siding with me."

Riddle turned away and looked at the giant stone head. "Well then, since you clearly are nothing special and it was your mother's abilities that let you survive that day, I have no further need for you." He turned to look back at Harry. "We'll pit Harry Potter, nothing special, against I, the Heir of Salazar Slytherin"

Harry laughed at the comment. "Idiot, that is what you are. You're not Sal's Heir." He loved seeing the look of confidence being wiped from Riddle's face. "I am and you practically handed it to me. I am his True Heir, you're nothing but a False One. When my mother's magic destroyed you, she was named Heir Slytherin by Rite of Conquest, but with her Death, it went to her next of kin, me. I am Salazar's Heir by Rite of Conquest Riddle. You want your claim back? You have to take it."

Riddle's face was stoic and a tic worked in his jaw. Harry loved seeing it. The anger in the usually confident and cocky power hungry fool, it was wonderful. "The basilisk will rend you limb from limb!" He said and turned to the statue. "_Speak to Me Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"_

Harry watched the mouth of the statue open up and he quickly drew the Cowl up over his head. While he was certain it would protect him, even if it should be down around his neck, he wasn't going to take any chances. He blasted the floor with ice underneath Susan, before he used his power over the wind to send her sliding over against a pillar. His eyes took note of the leather bound notebook she had used since she joined him.

Undoubtedly the Horcrux. But he had bigger problems to figure out how to fight.

From the opened mouth, a pair of yellow eyes opened and Harry felt something tug deep inside of his chest, but it didn't come free. He inhaled sharply and stepped back, holding the Harvester at the ready. The blade was cocked behind him and he knew his trusty weapon was in scythe form.

Its large bulk made the ground shudder and Harry could hear his heart beating. The ground under it cracked with its bulk, and it was bigger than Harry could have fathomably imagined it to be. He stared into the yellow eyes and looked to the red crest upon the Basilisk's head.

He had to try.

"_Balthazar! Listen to me!" _Harry said sharply. "_I am Slytherin's Heir, I am Salazar's Heir! You need to slumber once more, you are a protector."_

"_Buzzing! Angry!" _Balthazar's head shook from side to side, even dipped down to the stone floor. "_Rip and rend! Kill and Tear!" _

Harry could only look on in horror as the truth finally became clear for him. The depravity of what Tom Marvolo Riddle had done to the Basilisk Balthazar. White hot angry filled Harry's veins and he gripped the Harvester tightly with both hands. He had hoped to send Hogwarts' last defender back to sleep, but it was clear that was no longer an option.

It would have to be put down.

When Salazar Slytherin hatched Balthazar, it would have taken a hundred years at the least for the Basilisk to reach a size capable of fighting. So, the Founder had tied Hogwarts' Wards to Balthazar and allowed the magic of the castle to accelerate Balthazar's growth. And Balthazar had been feeding upon the wards for centuries now. While in hibernation, his growth was stunted but Balthazar still grew.

And then fifty years previously, when Riddle had opened the Chamber and commanded Balthazar to attack, the Wards gave a backlash in retaliation against Balthazar. It flogged his mind with pain and agony, and then Balthazar had to go back to hibernation.

But the pain and agony remained.

Fifty years of pain, agony, and guilt had driven the Serpent King insane. Irreversibly so.

And then Harry started to feed the Wards again, he feed Wards that hadn't been fed in decades and Balthazar fed greedily from them, even while hibernating. And the Wards flogged Balthazar even harder.

Then the attacks started up once more, attacks on students and the Wards attacked Balthazar even more. Because of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the beautiful Basilisk would have to die.

Harry shifted back a little more. He needed room to fight, but he also needed to have things to dodge behind. The pillars leading into the room were excellent. He stepped back carefully, looking along Balthazar's acidic green scales. They were magically resistant so he knew his wand, even his ice magic was worth nothing there.

Though perhaps he could still use it.

He stared up into the large yellow eyes and stepped back a little more. Its broad head moved and bobbed, watching Harry carefully.

A fully mature Basilisk could reach upwards of a hundred feet in length but could continue to grow the older it got. The largest basilisk on record was a hundred and fifty feet.

Balthazar's tail finally splashed into the pool of water and by Harry's estimate, Balthazar was over two hundred feet in length. Its head was as broad as Riddle was tall.

Harry stared up at the Serpent King, something akin to fear running through his veins. The fangs on Balthazar were massive, and if the venom didn't kill him the blood loss or impalement would. "You are a really… really… big Snake." Harry said. He had grossly underestimated how big Balthazar was going to be

"I don't know how you survived the basilisk's gaze Harry, but parsletongue won't save you here. He only obeys me." Riddle gloated from somewhere several feet away. "_Kill the boy!" _He hissed out.

Harry dodged to the right, landing in a roll. He came up and the Harvester was already in motion. He cut into Balthazar's scales with the scythe, having just barely dodged the initial lunge. But instead of the gush of blood that Harry expected from a wound that would truly harm Balthazar, there was only a light trickle.

Harry pushed used his powers over ice to launch himself up into the air just as a coil slammed into the pillars, knocking two of them over. He extended the Harvester out to catch himself on the ceiling and swung himself away from the pillars.

He was about to sink into the pool of water, he didn't think it all that deep. But when he was starting to fall towards it, he saw just how deep it was. He used the Harvester to grapple onto the top of the head.

Balthazar had turned already, its tail taking out another pillar the creature was so large and bulky that it simply didn't have the room to maneuver.

"_Beware the girl! I need her alive!" _Riddle snapped at the basilisk as he saw how close it came to crushing Susan.

Harry spread his feet on the stone head and changed the Harvester into a spear. His mind was coming up with a plan. "Come on!" Harry barked at the serpent that had looked to the girl back to Harry. A lance of ice took Balthazar in the face but it exploded on impact with little damage done.

Balthazar slithered closer, and reared back. It launched its head forward in a lethal strike. Harry used formed a pillar of ice to launch himself into the air. He jammed the Harvester into the stone behind him, keeping himself just out of Balthazar's reach. "Come on." Harry said, watching its body.

Balthazar took a shot at Harry again but Harry removed the Harvester from the wall and stuck the basilisk in the nose with it. It didn't go deep, but it would hurt Balthazar. And it did, as evident by the loud hiss of pain and anger. The thrashing of its head whipped Harry through the air but he held firm to the Harvester. Balthazar tried to strike at a wall to crush Harry and possibly break the Harvester, but Harry quickly wrenched the Harvester free and used it to yank himself past the broad head of the serpent.

Balthazar slammed into a wall and came back quickly, its head whipping around to slam into Harry's airborne body, sending him flying across the chamber to impact heavily against a pillar with a harsh crunching sound.

White hot searing pain filled Harry with every breath he took and he forced himself to stand up. The loud splash of water alerted Harry to Balthazar slipping into the water. He estimated about thirty percent of the Basilisk's middle in the water, with the head of the basilisk facing him. His wand whipped out. He had just moments and he couldn't recite the full verse again.

"Absolute End!" He shouted as he blasted the water with his ice spell. The liquid quickly froze and halted the serpent's movements towards him. Harry took the second to move out of reach of the lunging head.

He pressed his hand to his right side and grimaced. At least two broken ribs, but he couldn't stop. He needed to continue.

Harry aimed his wand once more at the water. He had mere moments before Balthazar broke free. "Queen of Eternity, of Ice and Time, Sitting upon Your Eternal Throne and Gazing to the Cosmos! Hear me and recognize your Power in your Child! Bring Unending Darkness to my Enemies, Freeze them in Space with an Unending Glacier! Bring Death to All That Has Life! Absolute End!"

The final tunings of Harry's wand glowed. Symbols representing ice, air, and fire glowed along the length of his yew wand. What looked like a complex and beautiful snow flake hung suspended in front of Harry's wand, twisting upon itself and rotating in a clockwise motion. His wand shot out a brilliantly crystal blue blast of energy, aimed right for the water.

He would freeze Balthazar in place for eternity.

The spell, recited in ancient Sanskrit, would have been devastating. It would drop the water's temperature to absolute zero, and it would affect Balthazar's blood. The beast would have been dead in moments from the drastic changes in temperature.

Balthazar swung its broad body in the way of the spell, taking the brunt of it. Its magically resistant skin greatly decreased the power of the spell, even as ice formed along its body. The massive serpent broke the ice of the still water, its head submerged for a moment.

Harry was too stunned to take advantage.

Balthazar came wrenching out of the water. It was free to move once more and it reared back, hissing with fangs dripping in a potent and very much lethal venom. Harry's gamble had failed. And with at least two broken ribs, there was no way he could keep moving the way he needed to for much longer.

Harry closed his eyes. He sent a silent apology to his friends, to the world. It would take nothing short of a miracle to survive.

He couldn't generate enough force to get a clean cut in with the Harvester. The Basilisk's magically resistant skin was thick, and it was difficult to get the swing in. A spear was possible, but Harry couldn't get the precision he needed. Either he would put himself within striking distance of those fangs, or he didn't know where the vital organs were. He could probably generate wind along his scythe blade, allowing for more cutting power but it still meant Harry had to make the cut.

And there was no way he was moving that quickly to do so.

It looked like the end of the world was coming sooner than Harry thought. He delayed it a good six months by defeating M last year, but it was still coming. Ah well, the world had a good run.

Harry held the Harvester in both hands and formed it into a spear. He might as well go out swinging and take the basilisk with him. It would be one less tool that Riddle would have.

It'd be one less thing the Creatures from Beyond the Veil could consume and become even stronger with.

Harry let out a bellowing battle cry and charged forward. He only had one shot, one chance to spear Balthazar through the brain. He saw Balthazar rear back, ready to strike like lightning. The momentum forward from the mighty beast would likely crush him, but no one could say he went out with a whimper.

"Kid! Catch!" The male voice from the darkness of the chamber caught Harry by surprise. What spun through the air was even more surprising and it brought hope to Harry's chest. It would do the trick. It would give him the ability to generate more force than the Harvester could.

The Harvester wrapped around the Dominion Gauntlet and he launched it out. It extended out past Balthazar's striking head, zipping past the object in the air. His right foot went to a pillar of ice that began to launch him up into the air. The Harvester struck into the ceiling and began to reel Harry in.

Time seemed to slow as Harry reached out upwards with his right hand. Glinting silver spun. He'd only have one chance. The forward momentum he had, the swing forward and Balthazar's strike would give him a chance for a clean cleave.

Harry grabbed it, he grabbed the silver Xiphos, an Ancient Greek blade. He spun his arm backwards. He gave another cry as he brought his legs up. His cloak fluttered across Balthazar's head with the sword trailing behind him.

Harry landed in a harsh crouch the Harvester and Xiphos extended out to either side as he landed behind Balthazar.

The serpent slammed into the ground hard and didn't move to get up. "_Thank you."_ Came a deep hiss as blood began to pool out and away.

Harry stood up with the Xiphos in one hand and held it up to Riddle, showing off the crimson stained edge.

Riddle's face contorted with rage as he looked to the basilisk. "No matter! I'll kill you myself!" he raised Susan's wand in his hand. "_Avada Kedavra!"_

Harry took it to the face and didn't even flinch. He saw the surprise on Riddle's face and smirked a moment. With a thought, he summoned the leather bound journal from Susan's form. "Check Mate Riddle." Harry said.

He spun the Xiphos around and speared the Journal, black smoke erupted from it as Riddle yelled in agony, dropping the wand before exploding with light.

It was over.

-**End Chapter-**

**A/N: I'm on fire with these chapters! Goodness, I loved writing this one! And there we have it folks, the events of the Chamber of Secrets have been finished. But we still have a while to go with Book 2.**

**Who threw the sword to Harry? And what is it that let him slice through Balthazar's head like a hot knife through butter?**

**Until next week**

**Hunter Berserker Wolf,**


	42. Book 2: Chapter 15

_Last Time: Harry has defeated both Riddle and the Basilisk Balthazar with assistance from a mysterious individual. He has destroyed another of Voldemort's Horcruxes, though Riddle has revealed the existence of another possible Horcrux._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 15

Harry set the tip of the Xiphos in the ground after pulling it out of the diary Horcrux. He knelt in the ink like fluid as it pooled out of it. He breathed heavily, each rasp difficult on his ribs and his bruised body. Fighting Balthazar had taken a lot out of him.

He took a look at the Xiphos. It was about thirty inches in length, a little longer than the average Xiphos. The blade was pure silver, not a hint of iron or bronze. The handle and guard of it was done in the motif of a Chimera, the lion and goat heads acting as the guard while the serpent was the handle. Along the blade was stylized flames and it was made to look like the blade was coming from the serpent's mouth.

Harry knew he was on a time clock. This was not a Xiphos he could so casually wield. Had he not been in such desperate, dire straits, he would have never grabbed for it. He knew the punishment for grabbing it.

Already… he could hear the pound drums in his ears.

It was War's Blade.

The Blade of Cratos.

It was one of the oldest artifacts of the Riders. The Blade of Cratos had been won in a contest of strength where the Greek Titan of Force and Guardian of Zeus' throne had been bested by the incarnation of War at time. There was nothing that it could not cut. And it amplified the user's strength.

Already Harry could feel the battle lust brewing in his veins.

"Harry?" He looked over to Susan who woke up. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Basilisk and she made her way over. "Are you okay?"

"Susan…" Harry grit his teeth hard, his arm showed the tense muscles that strained against the influence of the Blade. He would not have very long. "Listen closely, do not question." He said. He looked to her. "I need you to remove the Cowl and the Invisibility Cloak, in that order. Make sure that the Cowl touches me last. Let it fall off me, or else it will steal your soul.

"I'm going to have to run out of here, as fast as I can. Do not follow me argh!" Harry roared in agony as a pitch black tendril speared through his right arm and wrapped around his wrist. The blade shook wanting to come free. Just below the skin another tendril began pushing up his arm.

With another sound of agony, Harry drove a needle of ice into his right arm at the tendril. He knew it would not stop it, but he hoped it would slow it. "Do not follow me for ten minutes." He said. "Before you leave, hold my Heir Ring close to you and summon Millie. She'll gather my Deathly Artifacts."

Harry grit his teeth agony ripping through him as a second tendril began to burrow through his arm. He stabbed another ice needle into this one as well. "Take the Journal with you. Go back through, do not look at the Basilisk, do not even glimpse at its head. I do not know if its eyes are closed or not. I'll make a staircase leading up the piping."

Harry groaned out in agony as a second tendril pierced out of his skin and began to wrap around him. "Do it!" He barked out.

Susan moved quickly, setting to work on removing the Cowl from Harry. As she did that, he let the Dominion Gauntlet expand and slid off his left hand. He brought his left middle finger to his mouth and used his teeth to remove his Heir ring. He then dipped his head to let the Cowl fall off.

Susan then set to work removing his cloak so it hung on his right wrist. She could see Harry's strength faltering. His arm shook violently. She took the ring from it and held it close, stepping back from him. A third tendril snaked its way up his arm and he stabbed it, so much blood dripped from Harry's arm.

But the artifacts of War would not let something so simple as blood loss kill Harry.

The first tendril burst the ice needle and snaked its way up until Harry jammed two more into it. It was up towards his forearm.

Harry rose to his feet, keeping the Blade of Cratos in the ground. When he was on his feet, he wrenched it free of the ground and it was only him using a banishing spell on his own arm that kept him from lopping Susan's head off. He broke it in the process, but it was worth keeping her alive.

He took off running back out of the Chamber, sprinting as fast as he could. He dared not look at the damage he did to Balthazar with the Xiphos.

Without the Cowl, he was once more vulnerable to its lethal gaze.

He raced through the hall, coming to the sealed rounded door. Two slashes of the Xiphos brought it crashing down as he cleaved through rock and metal like it was wet tissue paper. But the enchantments on the Blade didn't care about such menial things.

It cared about Blood and Warfare.

He came to the shed snake skin and the steep piping. Water was trickling down it from where he had exploded the piping above. Ice platforms shot out, forming a bit of staircases that were steep but useable. He took them as quickly as he could, almost out pacing the formation of them.

Another tendril snaked its way up his arm and he stabbed it as well. Up to his forearm was wrapped in the tendrils, and he could almost feel the blood lust. His vision began to swim, but he had to focus. He had to suppress it.

Before, he had the Deathly Artifacts to help him suppress its power, albeit temporarily. Now he just had sheer strength of Will and his Deathly Aura which was as high as he dared push it.

He saw the light of the Bathroom and jumped, leaping with super natural strength that propelled him almost fifteen feet at the steep angle. He landed on his feet and he swiped out with the sword. He banished his arm again, spinning around.

The sword's target had been an unconscious Hannah.

He didn't know what had knocked out the blonde Hufflepuff, and he didn't have the time to find out. He pushed himself to keep running. He screamed in absolute pain once more as a tendril burst from his elbow, breaking the joint before wrapping tightly around it. He stabbed his arm multiple times with ice needles, not really aiming for anything.

He ran through the hallway on the Second Floor, barreling past the Charms Classroom. "Move!" he yelled at the top of his lungs as he saw Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter, what are you- " McGonagall turned at the loud shout, but made no move to do as he said.

The Xiphos scraped along the ground, scarring the stone underneath it. Sparks flew up and the sword burst into flames. It was only Harry grabbing his wrist at the last moment that kept McGonagall from being cleaved in two. He yelled, pain and frustration mixing into one sound.

"What is going on Mr. Potter!?" McGonagall practically screamed, backing up from the Second Year.

"It's a cursed sword!" Harry said as his body turned and moved for McGonagall.

Her wand flicked out swiftly and three suits of armor came to life, moving with incredible speed to defend her. "What can I do?" she asked.

"Stay out of my way!" He swung with the sword but instead of fighting it, he went into the slash, cleaving through the first suit of armor effortlessly before spinning some. He took off running for the Grand Staircase.

He barreled through the wooden door with his right shoulder, splintering it on impact. The entrance to the Hospital Wing was directly on the other side of the massive room. Harry didn't even bother waiting for one of the staircases, for Hogwarts to come to his aid.

He leapt the twenty feet and landed in a roll. He came to his feet, just as the tendrils had finished wrapping up his right arm from wrist to elbow. He jammed ice needles into the tendrils, hoping to slow them down. But his Will was faltering and he was starting to see double.

He couldn't fall unconscious.

He rushed forward and barreled through the hospital wing door. "Madam Pomfrey, help!" He jammed the blade into the ground and he pressed against it with his left hand.

The matron came bustling out with her wand and she stared a moment, shock on her face. "Harry, what is happening?"

"Cursed Sword. It wants to take me over." Harry groaned as a tendril forced its way up his bicep. He drove a thicker needle into it. "I need you to cut it out and off." He said.

She came over quickly with her wand and began to use it like a scalpel, cutting open his bicep. She reached into her apron for a pair of tongs that she grabbed the tendril with and began to try and pry it away from the muscle and bone, but it refused to budge.

"It's not coming out." She said.

Harry breathed heavily, mind whirling as he thought of everything he knew.

He came to one conclusion.

The sword would go dormant if it didn't have a user. And it couldn't create a body, not even from part of one. It hadn't yet reached his torso, it was still an option, but they had to act fast.

"Take the arm." Harry said. "Take the arm at the shoulder."

"Harry?" Madam Pomfrey asked, her eyes going wide. She had never had to perform an amputation on a student before.

Harry watched as the tendril wrapped around his bicep and another moved up, wrapping around the humerus of his right arm. He couldn't afford any delays. "Take the arm!" he shouted. Seeing her still hesitate, his left hand came up and his knife came out with practiced ease, the Xiphos started sliding out of the ground, looking to cut the Healer apart.

"I'll take the Damn thing myself!" He shouted as silver flashed and blood arced through the air.

Harry's arm with the Blade of Cratos went sailing through the air, spinning around. It hit the ground with a meaty thunk and the tendrils quickly withdrew from his bloodied and savaged arm.

Harry looked at it, warmth spilling down his right side. His vision blurred and darkened. "Don't… touch… the sword." The ground rose up to meet him.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Harry groaned as he came awake. He tried to sit up, but a hand quickly pressed to his chest. "Easy, Mr. Potter. You've had a trying ordeal."

Harry opened his eyes, but all he saw was a blur. He felt his glasses get placed in his left hand and he soon put them on. He looked up to the Headmaster sitting there, watching him. Harry waved the old man off and sat up, propping a pillow back behind him.

Harry breathed heavily as he looked to the Headmaster. Harry felt like he had been run over by Balthazar instead of just being hit. It took a moment for the events afterwards to come back to him, but they did. He glanced over to his right arm, expecting a stump.

What he saw instead was his right arm, attached at the shoulder with a new scar where his knife had cleaved through it. From the bicep on down was bandaged however. He frowned. "Can I take these off?" he asked.

"I daresay you can." Dumbledore said. "But… understand that Poppy couldn't do everything."

Harry untied the knot and began to unravel the bandages carefully. He could move his right arm, and even his fingers. And he had feeling in it. He could feel the tightness of the bandages. But as he got the bandage off, he understood Dumbledore's ominous statement.

Everywhere a tendril had burst from, or he had stabbed, had left a scar that no amount of magic would be able to heal. Even where the tendrils had burrowed under his skin, he could make out a faint outline from it.

"I would have expected a silver hand with your statement, Headmaster." Harry said. He then turned to look at the Headmaster. "How long was I out this time?"

Dumbledore sighed. "There's no easy way to put this Mr. Potter. You went down into the Chamber November 27th. It's now December 16th, just days before the Holidays."

Almost three weeks. That was… it was heavy. Harry looked around and sat up in alarm. "Where is the Xiphos?" he asked.

"Gone." Dumbledore said simply.

"Gone?" Harry asked sharply, turning to face the blue eyed wizard. "What do you mean, gone?"

"Just that, Mr. Potter. Poppy went into her office to get some sleep after stabilizing you, she had left the sword right on the ground where it had lain, and when she awoke the next morning, it was gone."

Harry sat back heavily. His mind whirled with the implications. The defense on the Xiphos would make it impossible for the average person to pick up. Not even a Master of the Mind Arts would be able to pick it up so casually. Either someone was careful in its handling, a likely scenario, or War picked it up.

He wouldn't be alive otherwise.

"You gave Minerva and Poppy quite the fright, Mr. Potter, what were you doing with such an obviously Dark Artifact?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry was tempted to tell Dumbledore to mind his own business. However, he understood that such a story would not be easy to brush under the table. He also knew that he was under some major scrutiny from Dumbledore, especially coming out as a Necromancer.

Harry sighed softly. "The day you were… removed from your position, I figured out where the Chamber was. Ms. Mallon's Ghost still haunts where she was killed. When I found out Susan was kidnapped, I… I lost it. I lost touch with my limitations. I immediately scoured Salazar's journals, and found entries to what I needed. And I found out that the monster petrifying people was a Basilisk. "

Harry inhaled and ran his tongue over his teeth. "I blew up the sinks where Ms. Mallon says she saw the eyes that killed her and immediately descended. I used Parsletongue to open the next door. I had hoped that I could put the Basilisk back to sleep, that I could put it into hibernation. After all, Balthazar had been intended as a last line of defense for Hogwarts.

"Unfortunately… Salazar tied Balthazar to the Wards, and the Wards punished the Basilisk for not only these attacks but the attacks last time. It had been driven insane by a sociopathic fool. The sword was thrown to me, I caught it and killed Balthazar. Its dying words were 'Thank You'. I then destroyed another of Tom Riddle's Horcruxes, saw to Susan being relatively okay, and ran out of the Chamber for the Hospital Wing. The rest, well… I'm sure Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey can explain."

Dumbledore nodded his head. "I believe you." He said. From the top drawer, he pulled out the pierced diary. "Madam Pomfrey said that Ms. Bones brought this in a few days after your admittance and placed this in here." He said.

"Susan was the one that Tom Riddle possessed, through that." Harry said, nodding towards the diary.

"Witches and Wizards older, wiser, and more powerful than her were hoodwinked by Tom, so there will be no repercussions for Ms. Bones. There was no one permanently hurt and your company sent the Mandrakes a week ago. Poppy administered the potions already and everyone is up and walking around." Dumbledore said pleased.

Just then, the doors to the Hospital Wing banged open and Lucius Malfoy strode in, his cane tapping on the ground. "Ah, Dumbledore, I had heard that you were in here."

"Yes." Dumbledore said with a patient smile and a twinkle in his eyes. "You see, after the kidnapping of Ms. Bones and the subsequent hospitalization of Mr. Potter here," Harry waved his scarred arm at the man. "The Board of Governors believed it prudent to reinstate me as Headmaster. Though, Poppy sending Howlers to them may have also sped things along."

Harry looked to Malfoy with cold eyes and he arched his brow at the House Elf at the man's side. "Dobby? You serve the Malfoy Family?"

Lucius glared down at his House Elf. "We will discuss this later." He said sharply. He then moved closer, standing in front of Dumbledore. "So? Has the culprit been caught?" He asked

"One Tom Marvolo Riddle." Dumbledore said. "Through this." He said and lifted the Diary up.

"Ah." Lucius said, looking at the diary. His icy blue eyes flashed with something that Harry couldn't quite place. "Then I suppose there is no need for me to be here, is there?"

"I'm sure you have more important business to attend to." Dumbledore said in a pleasant tone.

Lucius turned sharply and smacked Dobby in the back of his head with his cane to get the House Elf moving.

Harry remembered something about what Tom said down in the Chamber. "Hey, that's mine right?" Harry asked, motioning to the diary.

"I daresay it could be claimed as such." Dumbledore said, holding it out.

Harry took it and was quick to get out of the bed.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing?" Dumbledore asked alarmed.

"Righting a wrong." Harry said as he took the diary and was quick to go after Malfoy. It didn't take long for Harry to catch up to the man. This took precedence, or else he would have changed out of the white and blue striped pajamas he wore.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Harry said and watched as the man turned. "Here." He said and forcefully passed the man the diary. "I'm pretty sure that belongs to you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Lucius said, passing it casually over to Dobby.

"Sure you don't." Harry said with a straight face. "Amelia Bones has been a thorn in your side for a long time, Mr. Malfoy. You were hoping to discredit her with one of your Master's toys in the possession of her only Niece. Her precious, pure, innocent niece being a pawn in your machinations."

Lucius leaned in slightly. "Why don't you prove it?" he hissed venomously.

Harry smirked. "I don't need to. I'm sure your wife would love to hear how you put her precious and only child in danger. I doubt she'll ask for proof."

Lucius' face stayed venomously before he turned with a swish of his cloak and began to walk away. "Come Dobby, we're leaving."

Harry looked down to Dobby quickly. "Open the diary." He said.

Dobby opened the pages which practically fell open. He picked up the tie from the pages. "Master has given Dobby clothes." He said, a little in awe.

"What?" Lucius turned to see Dobby picking up a bronze and blue tie.

"Master has present Dobby with Clothes. Dobby is free!" The House Elf sounded excited.

Harry stood there with a smirk.

"You lost me my Servant!" Lucius' face contorted with genuine rage and fury and he yanked his wand from his cane. He pointed it at Harry. "_Avadra_ \- "

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!" Dobby blasted Lucius down the hallway with elf magic and the man went sprawling.

Lucius got up with a snarl and he flicked his hair behind his ear. "Your parents were much the same Potter. Constantly meddled in things that didn't concern them. Take care before you meet the same sticky end." The man turned with another swish.

But Harry wasn't done with him, not now. "Oh Mr. Malfoy." Harry called out and watched the man turn. "You tried to attack the Heir of two Ancient and Most Noble Houses. I hereby challenge you to a Class Two Honor Duel, or I will declare Blood Feud on the Malfoy name."

Duels were often classified into one of three classes. Class One, Class Two, and Class Three. Class One Duels were often training Duels, and the Witches and or Wizards involved couldn't use anything that would be lethal. Accidents still happened, but not often. A Class Two was where things got really gray. Accidents happened more often as spells could be lethal but weren't inherently so. An example was a Cutting Hex taking someone in the throat. These duels were often reserved for Honor Duels and Tournaments.

A Class Three Duel was a Duel to the Death and considered illegal unless a Blood Feud was declared.

And should a Blood Feud be declared, Narcissa and Draco would both have to pick sides. Either they were Malfoys and to be killed, or they were to be Blacks. There was no in between and Harry's magic would not be satisfied until every Malfoy was dead. A Blood Feud was not so casually declared because the family demanding it would have to go before the Wizengamot to have them agree to it. Lucius' clear attempt on Harry's life demanded no less, but Harry was willing to let the man out with an Honor Duel.

Lucius's face contorted with his rage. "Accepted." He ground out through his teeth. "When and Where?"

"Ministry of Magic, at their Christmas Ball." Harry wanted an audience. "And you will be facing me, Mr. Malfoy, not a Champion." He was confident in his abilities to outduel Lucius.

Lucius nodded his head sharply before he turned and walked out.

"Harry Potter has freed Dobby, how shall Dobby ever repay him?" Dobby asked, looking up to Harry.

Harry looked at the House Elf. "Just… try to stay out of trouble." Harry said before he started to walk back towards the Hospital wing.

"Dobby would like to become Harry Potter's House Elf." The little creature said hopeful and excited.

Harry closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. "You know what? Sure." He turned to look at Dobby. "Go to Potter Manor, tell Millie I sent you. I'll bond with you properly over the Break. Speak with Millie and find out if she needs you as a Potter Elf. If not, I'll get you to Bond as a Black Elf, I don't need to speak with Sirius about that thankfully."

He began to walk away again, leaving the Elf to pop out with his tie around his neck.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Harry was released the following day. Already, his friends had come to visit him, even Flitwick. The conversations varied, but they were essentially the same. They were worried about him, it left an interesting feeling in his stomach. He really wasn't sure what to think about it.

What he did know was that he was hungry and wanted to eat something, so he was heading down to the Great Hall to get some lunch.

Just as he came down the stairs, a firm grip grabbed his right arm and spun him around the banister away from the double doors and frog marched him down a different path. And try as he might, he couldn't break the grip.

Harry finally caught sight of Argus Filch's features. "Let me go, I have done nothing." Harry said sharply. But he was still moving onwards towards Filch's office.

The door was opened and Harry was harshly pushed into a chair that was sent spinning. The door closed and Filch moved to the other side of the desk, where he sat down. "I want to talk." The man said, leaning back in his chair. Mrs. Norris was quick to hop into his lap where he began to stroke her fur.

Harry frowned a moment, but he nodded. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?" he asked.

From behind his desk, Filch grabbed something and brought it up. With practice that seemed impossible for the Squib, he spun around the object and placed it on his desk.

It was the Blade of Cratos.

Harry's eyes widened as he looked at it and then to Filch, then back to the bared silver Xiphos. There had been no protection as Filch had spun it around. Nothing to stop him from being possessed by the murderous intent of the blade. Yet, Harry looked back to Filch. There he sat, stroking a cat's fur like it was nothing. The implications… Harry's mind raced once more as his mind struggled to figure out what it all meant.

And he came to one conclusion. "War. You're War." Harry whispered.

Filch inclined his head. "Guilty as charged. But at the same time, not quite. I am the previous incarnation of the Red Rider."

Harry ran his hands through his hair, slumping in his chair. Harry's mind connected the gravelly voice of the mysterious individual who had tossed him the Xiphos to Filch's own. It was… It was… It was difficult to fathom. "How did I never catch this? How did I never sense this?"

"I've gotten good at hiding my urges Death." The man said. "Besides, I've satisfied them quite nicely, I think."

Harry looked up to Filch. He looked down to the blade before at the once simple caretaker. "If you are War, then why did you not help at the end of Last Year? I could have used you against that Creature!"

Filch held up his hand to silence Harry. "I was on the top floor of the castle when I saw you fighting the Creature from Beyond the Veil. I could not get down so quickly, Death. I'm not going to apologize for it either."

"Why?" Harry asked, almost snarling at the man. He had almost died when the embodiment of battle had been at the castle. And the whole basilisk fight was another fiasco.

"Watch your tone boy." Filch said sitting up and slamming his fist into the desk with enough force the wood cracked. "I still have enough strength to turn you into nothing but another messy smear to clean up."

Filch leaned back and resumed stroking Mrs. Norris' fur. "With the arrival of the New War, my powers have been leaving me. They have been siphoning off of me and into them. I'm getting weak, I'm getting tired, and I'm getting slow. I would have been nothing but a burden in both battles that you've fought so far, and you would have likely died." Filch said. He looked to his desk. "Ten years ago, that desk would be nothing but a pile of splinters, now it's just been cracked.

"I've been feeling my powers leaving me for some time, Death. With the New War arriving last year, this has accelerated. I used to be able to keep up with the likes of the Weasley Twins and even your father and his merry band of misfits, but now…" Filch shook his head and tilted his head back.

"I fought as a teenager in World War I, Death. And I fought again in World War II. But even I have to face the fact that I have gotten old, and my time is starting to come rapidly to an end." Filch said and he motioned to the Xiphos. "It's time to pass that down. You will find War, I'm certain of it. And when you do, you give them that blade with my regards. It's been drenched in blood, and I'm certain it will be drenched in more."

Harry frowned a moment as he stared at the Blade of Cratos. But what Filch was saying was making sense. He knew when he started to pass on the powers of Death, he would lose certain benefits. He had never expected to find one of the previous Riders, but here he sat before a War that would lose to the worst enemy for the battle crazed warriors.

Old age.

Harry took off his robes and was careful to wrap the sword up in it before he tucked it in his satchel, letting it slip off into the extend space. He looked to Filch again. "Why are you here?" Harry asked. "At Hogwarts I mean. If you were here when my father was here, that must mean you were here at least fifteen years ago, possibly twenty. You hate children and the task of a caretaker must have grated on you something fierce."

For a warrior to do something as menial as sweeping, mopping, dusting, and other such tasks, it must have been an enormous pain. Filch could have done Mercenary work and had his soul sing with it. It didn't make sense to Harry.

Filch gazed off a moment. He looked to an exact spot. "I feel another one of War's items here. I was drawn to it. I needed them. Unfortunately, I never found them. No matter the path I took, no matter the secret passages I took. I could never find them. I know exactly where they are but how to get to them… It has eluded me for forty years."

Harry followed his gaze and realized Filch was looking right at where Godric's Study would be, and if Harry guessed, he was looking right at the chest where the Gauntlets were. "They were the Gauntlets of Mars." Harry said, turning to look at Filch once more. He noticed the man face him. "They're in Godric's study, I'm not surprised you couldn't find it." He said.

Filch gave a snort and shook his head. "I suppose that I should just be thankful to know what they are." He said and leaned back in his chair a bit more. "I'm going to be retiring. I won't be returning for the end of the term." He said, stroking Mrs. Norris' fur some more. "My familiar and I are going to go home and finally rest."

Harry looked surprised at the comment about Mrs. Norris being Filch's familiar but he nodded. Slowly, he stood up. "I wish you the best then, Argus Filch, War of the Apocalypse."

Harry turned and walked out of the man's office, letting the man just stare off while petting his cat. At least he could put the Xiphos somewhere safe.

-**Chapter End-**

**A/N: I know, I know, I said I wouldn't be doing another one of these for a week. But this had bits that I've been waiting to write for quite some time and I felt that I NEEDED to write them. One thing led to another and what do you know, I've pumped out another chapter in six hours.**

**But seriously, this time this really is the last chapter for another week. I don't even know what I'm going to write for the next chapter to be honest.**

**I'll figure it out, I promise.**

**HBW, signing off**


	43. Book 2: Chapter 16

_Last Time: Harry has once more ended up in the Hospital wing for an extend period of time after the effects of the Blade of Cratos, a weapon belonging to War. He has freed Dobby from Lucius Malfoy, and with Malfoy's attack in return, Harry has challenged him to a Duel at the Ministry's Christmas Ball. Argus Filch has revealed himself to be the previous Red Rider, and the person that tossed the sword to Harry against Balthazar. He has also revealed that his powers have been leaving him for the next War, weakening him greatly._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 16

Harry left Filch's office in thought. He would have never thought the old caretaker had been the previous War, but that just went to show him the power of the artifacts he was dealing with. They could hold back the progression of age quite well, as they did so with Filch's body.

Harry looked towards the doors to the Great Hall, where he could hear the sounds of the students eating lunch going on. He ran a hand through his hair as he contemplated what to do.

No doubt, the rumors of his injuries had already made it abound. And no doubt, stories of what happened had already made its way around. People would undoubtedly know he fought a Basilisk, that he had killed a basilisk.

The kitchens weren't far, and he'd be accepted by the House Elves without a doubt.

But then again, he might also be vilified. He had, after all, recently freed one of their kind. Regardless of it being from an abusive relationship, to be freed was a taboo to the House Elves. They were terrified of it even.

To be freed was considered a black mark on their record, a mark that could and often would keep them from finding a mate.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Finally, he inhaled deeply and steeled himself. He was no coward, and would face any situation thrown at him with his head held high. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he'd face it head on. He would not run away from it.

He went towards the double doors. His magic made them swing open, a hush falling over the Great Hall as he entered with his head held high. Every step he made as he went towards his usual spot seemed to echo around him in the stone hall.

It was almost unnerving.

Harry paused in his walking as he heard a sound coming from the front. It was a sound he hadn't expected, a sound he never would have associated for himself. His eyes panned up and he saw where it was coming from and inclined his head slightly.

Professor Flitwick stood in his chair and gave a firm clap for his student.

Before long, Professor Sprout joined him, standing up to clap for him as well. Harry watched as one by one, the staff all stood up, giving him an applause. Then the students began to clap, whistle, and holler. It was… it was… Harry had no words to describe it. But it was definitely different.

It didn't matter the House, it didn't matter the year. Most of them clapped for Harry, even if it was just politely. It was more than he had expected honestly. Harry walked between the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, his peers reaching out to pat his shoulder or back. For the usually introverted Harry, it was almost too much.

He glanced over to the Gryffindor Table. Surprisingly, they were second in making the most noise. And that was with the Weasley Twins and their friend Lee Jordan chanting his last name.

It was the Hufflepuffs that made the most noise.

Harry had saved one of their own, he supposed.

He made it to his usual spot and sat down to the applause. He could hear the Weasley Twins shouting over the clapping now. "Speech! Speech for the Hero!" He shuddered a bit at the title.

He didn't feel like a hero. Never had. He just refused to give up on a situation, no matter how hopeless it was. He'd be more likely to call himself stubborn.

Eventually the applause died down to the sound of Professor Dumbledore tapping his spoon against the rim of his goblet. When the noise finally did die down and everyone was seating once more, Dumbledore remained standing. "A Muggle Philosopher once said, 'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil, is that good men do nothing'. Too often in the world today we see this to be true." He said slowly and carefully. "To many of us, we believe that there is nothing that we can do, and so wickedness triumphs. Either we are scared for ourselves, or we are scared for what will happen to those we care about, we worry about the burden of our ties and what will happen to them if we take that step forward.

"I am pleased to say that this was not the case this time." Dumbledore said and he raised his goblet up to Harry. "To you, Mr. Potter, for showing courage, loyalty, wit, and cunning in the face of a true danger. Without your determination, I shudder to think of what would have happened. You will be rewarded with a Recognition for Special Services to the School reward. It is petty in comparison to the feat you performed, but there is little more I can do." He said

Dumbledore then took his seat, setting his goblet down so that he could eat.

Harry started to make his lunch when someone came to stand at his side. "Heir Potter?' The voice was a bit uneven, unsure. Scared even.

Harry turned and stood up from the bench once more. He looked to Zacharias Smith and Ernest MacMillan, two Hufflepuff Students that had been the most vocal in their comments regarding their fear. Especially with Harry being the Heir of Slytherin. Harry had brushed their comments off, they weren't worth the hassle to deal with. But the two pure bloods had come to him, the least he could do was stand on ceremony.

"Heir MacMillan, Heir Smith." Harry said. His tone was flat and even, without any indication of how annoyed he actually was that he couldn't just eat his lunch.

He was hungry and the Hospital Wing food was horrid.

Ernest shuffled on his feet slightly. Either Harry's annoyance was still clear and MacMillan picked up on it, or Ernest was quite ashamed of what he had to say. "We, that is to say Zach and I… We wanted to apologize." Ernest said. He cleared his throat. "It was wrong of us to say the things we said about you with the attacks."

Zacharias looked away a bit, unable to meet Harry's gaze.

Before Harry could say anything to speed the process up, someone else unexpectedly spoke for him.

"As well you both should be!" Cedric Diggory said, standing up and moving away from the Hufflepuff table. "You both acted with cowardice! You didn't bother trying to find the facts out, you just jumped to your own scared conclusions. You're twelve, not eight. You should be able to form an opinion based upon the facts, not the biased and slanted opinions of your peers."

"But Justin was- " Zacharias tried to cut in.

"Woah, don't bring me in this!" Justin was quick to say from a ways down the table.

Cedric stepped towards the other two purebloods. His shoulders were squared and his chin raised. He looked every bit the Heir in training he was instead of the usually friendly guy. "Yes, Justin was attacked, but it gave you two no right to attack another student. You should have taken your concerns to Professor Sprout. You two don't deserve to call yourselves Hufflepuffs," Calling their right to their House into question was some harsh words.

Words Harry hadn't expected.

"We are Hufflepuffs, the House of the Loyal and the Hardworking." Cedric said proudly. "This is my fifth year at Hogwarts, and in those years, I never thought I'd be as ashamed of members of my own house the way I am with you two." There was a reason that Professor Sprout had made Cedric a Prefect.

He embodied his house quite well.

Harry cleared his throat. While he did believe that the two should be reamed for their actions, he was also hungry. "Perhaps, Cedric, this is not the best place for this conversation to be had." Harry cut in politely.

They were in the Great Hall after all.

Cedric glanced around. "Go." He said sharply. The two second year boys flushed before they began to shuffle off towards the end of the Hufflepuff table. It was clear they weren't finished with that rather unpleasant conversation.

Harry inclined his head to Cedric. He had not forgotten how the elder boy had helped save his life by getting him to Madam Pomfrey quickly. He would not forget this either. He would make certain that, some day, the score was evened.

Cedric went back to sitting down, quickly reverting back to that just generally good guy that made him a likable person.

"Harry!"

Harry wanted to groan but turned as he saw Susan moving towards him. By the flush of her face, Harry could tell she had been running with Hannah soon bringing up the rear. He wasn't quite sure where his friends had been but he was pleased to see them anyways.

"Susan, Hannah." He said as they got closer.

Smack!

Harry's ears rang with the harsh blow to his cheek. His left cheek stung and the stunned silence that fell over the Great Hall told him precisely that what he thought happened had happened. He was stunned himself, so stunned he was still looking towards the Slytherin Table from the sharp snap of his head towards the right.

Susan had smacked him as hard as she could.

"Don't you ever put your life on the line like that again!" Susan shouted at him rather fiercely. "That stunt with you going into the Chamber was the most asinine thing I have ever heard of, you went down against a Basilisk with no plan, no back up, and no guarantee of coming back alive. You're lucky you didn't end up dead!"

Harry turned to look at the fierce blue eyes of the redheaded Hufflepuff. He expected a lot of thing, anger at saving her was not one of them.

He wasn't entirely sure he deserved that.

He reached up and adjusted his skewed glasses, putting them back on properly so that he could better see her.

"You should have told the Professors everything you knew Harry." Susan said. Her tone was still firm and she pointed one of those slender fingers at him. "You should have contacted Auntie and told her, you have that pocket watch she gave you. She could have brought in back up and been there in moments. Do you hear me Harry James Potter?" she asked.

Harry felt a tic work in his jaw. He hated it whenever someone used his full name. "Clearly." He said. His tone was a little sharper than he intended, but he couldn't help it.

Susan grabbed his jaw before he could turn away. "And this is for saving me." She leaned up and kissed his lips.

It was soft, tender, and surprising. There was no fireworks like some people described of their first kiss, it was a soft pressure against his mouth. There one second and gone the next.

Susan flushed as she drew her hand away. She then turned and began to walk away quickly, leaving Harry standing there in rather stunned silence.

Silence being until Susan left the Great Hall, then the Weasley Twins began to shout and holler for him from the Gryffindor table.

Harry wasn't sure if he deserved that one either.

-_**Scene Break -**_

Harry had taken the Thestral carriages down to Hogsmeade and then headed up to the Shrieking Shack. He had a lot of things to cover on his break, and he wasn't sure where to even begin. He couldn't afford to be wasting several hours taking a train back to London.

He sat down at his table, taking out a parchment and grabbing a pen. He started to write out the events that he had to do as both Death and Harry Potter. There were many and he knew he had to get them down and in order.

As Death, he needed to go speak with Dumbledore, at the very least. Harry had to clear up some information with him regarding things and he knew he had to be prepared, had to steel himself. Then, he had to research something he was going to speak with Dumbledore about so that he was prepared in case the old man agreed to his offer. That would be a nightmare as well, but it had to be done.

Then he also had to go to Gringotts, for two separate trips. The first trip was to dine, once more, with High King Ragnarokk. The High King seemed to have taken a liking to Harry and wanted to dine once more with him and go over various things. It was a good thing too, because according to Andromeda, Harry's legal aid, it looked like there were things they needed to discuss about the Goblins selling their wares outside of Gringotts.

All Harry had to do was whet an appetite or two for money.

The second trip to Gringotts was to continue pouring his magic into the Adamantine. It had been a going process, but Harry thought that they would be able to manage it. Just another few months for the armor to be able to respond to any of the next Pale Riders, and Harry would be glad to have that protection the next time he fought a monster from Beyond the Veil.

It also meant he had to practice running, jumping, climbing, and dodging in the armor to get the distribution of weight correct. It wasn't going to be comfortable, but Harry thought it would be doable.

Harry quickly jotted a note down beside his note regarding the dinner with the High King. He would need to speak with the Goblins about getting Hunting and Game experts in, as well as the Goblins involved in the Harvesting of Balthazar. While it could perhaps be taken as a cruel thing to do, Harry wouldn't let it go to waste.

Harry jotted another idea down regarding the bones. Maybe he could do something with them to further help the goblins fill their coffers. Which would fill the Ministry coffers as well due to taxes, but that could be doable. Again, all he had to do was whet an appetite or two for the gold.

He hated the system, but he was more than willing to play it.

As Harry he also had to attend Christmas with Sirius and Professor Lupin. If Harry was honest, he was still a little frigid about it, but he was going to handle the proper etiquette involved. Narcissa would have his hide if he didn't respect the proper etiquette.

He even had a joke-gift idea. Though… Hmm… He might piss Professor Lupin off with it. Oh well, he'd try it anyways. It was too easy not to do it.

Then the Ministry Christmas Ball that night, with his duel against Lucius. No doubt he'd have Professor Flitwick, Mad-Eye Moody, and even Madam Bones all chomping at the bit to take his place, especially if somehow Madam Bones found out Harry's suspicions that Lucius was the reason Susan had been the one put in danger.

Then there was going to France so that he could get Johnathan Demonbreun to look at his insides and hopefully heal the damage from when Harry had pushed his body entirely too hard against M. That probably wasn't going to be a quick thing. In fact, if Harry estimated right, it would likely be an all-day thing.

Then there was Boxing Day at the Boneses' which he had agreed to before… Well… Before the Chamber Incident.

Harry briefly touched his cheek. He could still feel that slap and he had later found the four angry red lines where Susan had either accidently or purposefully drug her nails across his cheek. The girl was feisty when she was angry, and Harry still wasn't sure if he had deserved the smack or not. He had no one to ask either.

Sometimes it was quite troublesome when he had no real parental figure in his life.

Harry groaned as he briefly made a note beside his note for Boxing Day. He had to talk with Susan. He didn't know what the kiss she gave him meant, but he was determined to find out. But he knew that conversation would be an awkward one to have. He barely understood the maelstrom of feelings he had towards the kiss, how could he expect Susan to understand the feelings any better.

How could he put them in proper order? Did he even want to put them in proper order? He remembered what the Mirror of Erised had shown him, but Dumbledore had stated it could only show what could be, not what was definite.

And Harry had no inclination to not believe one of the makers of the enchanted, and now broken, mirror.

Had it been Susan on the back of Despair with him? Maybe he had been too quick to jump to that conclusion when he told Dumbledore what he saw. Could the person behind him just been a friend? Or was he thinking too hard about it?

Nonetheless, Harry needed to speak with Susan about the kiss. His feelings and thoughts were still undecided, but he had so many things to go through before that. He could put his mind to it better before Boxing Day but when he managed to get a break.

He would also need to spend a day coming up with topics he wanted to speak with Colin and the other Heirs about. That wouldn't be easy. All four of them had to come to conclusions and then stamp the parchment with their Seals, seals that would come to them once they all claimed their title. Only then could they then be binding and be put into effect.

And some of Harry's changes were decidedly… radical. And even costly. The Founder's Vault was intended to be used for Hogwarts, but that didn't mean over the years some of the Founders' Heirs hadn't skimmed a little bit off the top to pocket.

It was something he wouldn't allow to happen this time.

Harry groaned and tossed his glasses onto the table, pinching the bridge of his nose. He also had to get Hannah to one of his properties, likely Potter Manor, and see if she needed a tuning to her wand. After just two of his artifacts and the boost they gave him, he needed his wand tuned so that it would continue to work for him.

"Looks like it's going to be another busy Holiday." He spoke softly.

_**-Scene Break-**_

Dumbledore stood in his office. It was then night the students had left for home for the holidays, and he was left staring at the silver devices he kept on a shelf. They would be a monument to his sins, sins he committed in the name of the safety of one Harry Potter.

He ran his hand through his grayed hair and closed his eyes. What he encountered would humiliate and burden him for the rest of his days, however long that may have been.

In a sudden burst of anger, he swept all the silver devices from the shelf, sending them sprawling to the floor where they sparked and smoked. He flopped down into his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose a moment, going into thought.

Never before in his life had he expected such a failure. He wondered how badly he had failed in other aspects.

With his dismissal from the post of Headmaster, Dumbledore had time on his hand and he had, after the brief look into Harry's mind he had been granted, went to find out what he could. And what he had found, it haunted him. But he wouldn't turn a blind eye to it, he would keep it in his mind and suffer for it.

He cause that boy to go through such pain.

Dumbledore had started with a friend that he had asked to keep an eye on young Harry. The squib Arabella Figg was more than willing to help him out and keep an eye on Harry. Her reports hadn't seemed out of the ordinary.

He did yard work. Pruned and watered the rose bushes, washed and waxed the car, it was chores. Not that abnormal to Dumbledore. He had, after all, been given such work as a young lad.

Harry had been a little small for his age, but that could just be attributed to genetic factors. Again, nothing that seemed out of the ordinary at the time and with the other reports. Arabella reported Harry to be quiet whenever he stayed with her, never being a burden and always helpful.

All the signs were there, but without a lynchpin it didn't seem out of the ordinary.

Many Muggleborn students, or Muggle-raised in Harry's case, were often shy and quiet because such fantastical and unexplained events happened around them. Dumbledore had no reason to expect some sort of foul play involved.

He had been a fool, he should have listened to Minerva or even Severus. Severus had known what sort of person Petunia Evans had been and would have no doubt agreed with Minerva over what Petunia Dursley was.

'_You _can't_ mean the people who live _here!'

Even now, Minerva's statement cut him to the bone as he finally got a full idea of what he had, unknowingly, put Harry through for so many years.

He had gone there, he had talked with Arabella and then he had gone to Number 4 Privet Drive. Arabella had told him about the rumors that the Dursleys had spread since Harry left. That he had gone to some sort of school for the incurably criminal.

The second Dumbledore had crossed the wards he had erected, he knew instantly that his original plan had been in tatters. The way they felt, cracked and fragmented, like they were barely holding up. A half-trained Curse-Breaker would have been through them in seconds, not talking about the might that was Voldemort.

It was only with a few body-binding curses and Legilimency probes that Dumbledore began to get the full picture. Dudley had been the worst sort of bully to Harry. Petunia worked Harry to the bone, and Vernon… Vernon was lucky to be alive.

Even now, Dumbledore's blood boiled.

Vernon had gone into drunken rages and beaten Harry a dozen or more times with a belt. Beat him so badly that Harry often had no recollection of the events, and it was only his magic that allowed him to remain as unscarred as he was.

Harry remembered maybe one of these events.

"Damn it Albus!" he shouted at himself sweeping the items from his desk to scatter about the room. He clutched his head with one hand and began to sob. He had never wanted to bring Harry pain. He had never wanted him to be hurt like that.

All he wanted was for Harry to grow up safe. He wanted Harry to grow up with a hint or normalcy. It had been a pipe dream and he had never even known it.

"I would have never taken you for the angry type, Wulfric."

Dumbledore looked up, watching as ice began to creep along the floor of his office following the footsteps. The figure slowly turned visible, his cloak turning black and Dumbledore felt his heart race once more, the stump of his shoulder throbbed like he had been freshly burned.

Death had come once more to Hogwarts.

Death paused and reached down to pick up one of the silver figures that he had used to watch Harry with. "These look quite fragile and difficult to make Wulfric. You shouldn't so casually throw them around." He set it upon a table and began to walk around, the ice no longer creeping with him.

"What are you doing here Death? How did you get in here?' Dumbledore asked carefully. He palmed the Elder Wand in his hand, even as he felt it pulse in his hand.

While he was almost one hundred percent certain that it was Harry Potter beneath the Cowl, there was still that sliver of a chance that it wasn't and he didn't want to anger this entity. Not only that, but Dumbledore was also intelligent enough with enough tact to not so casually call Harry out about it without proof.

Death's hand came up and he stroked the breast of his Phoenix, Fawkes. "You have a handsome phoenix, Wulfric. You are lucky to have him."

"Fawkes recently had his burning day, about a month ago." Dumbledore said. It was why Fawkes looked as fresh as he did with such vibrant colors. "You haven't answered my questions."

"So I haven't." Death said as he went towards the seat across from Dumbledore and sat down in it. His poise showed that he was supremely confident. Of what, Dumbledore wasn't certain. What he was certain of was that it would be best to give it time for Death to answer his questions on his own. "The truth, Wulfric, is that I simply followed you in here using my Invisibility Cloak. And my being here, well… We have a bit to discuss."

Dumbledore glanced to the cloak and thought he try to make Death slip up. "I gave Harry Potter his Heirloom, the Cloak that Death gave Ignotus Peverell." He thought the mention of the Deathly Hallows would be interesting to the individual across from him.

"So you did." Death said giving nothing away, though Dumbledore thought that if he saw the man's face it would be pulled into a smirk.

"You don't deny the Deathly Hallows?"

"All stories, Wulfric, have a grain of truth to them. Yes, my predecessor gave each of the Artifacts to the Peverell brothers." Death popped the stone off the ring of his Right bony middle finger and set it onto the Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore's breath hitched at the sight of the Hallows symbol on the black stone. "Is that…"

"Indeed." Death said simply. "The Resurrection Stone. For obvious reasons, it does not work for me. But you'll find that it will work for you." Death then took the stone back and set it into his ring once more.

Dumbledore looked to Death's hidden face. "Then where did you get the Invisibility Cloak if I gave Harry his?" He thought he might have found his bit of evidence.

Death laughed, a chilling bone rattling sound that was like nails upon a chalk board. "I made it Wulfric. Just as my predecessor made the original, I made this one." Death smoothed his hands over the black cloak. "Despair, my Steed, donated the hair to the original, and donated the hair to this one."

Dumbledore would have very much liked to test that and study 'both' of the cloaks, but he doubted Death would hand it over so casually. And he doubted that even if there were two that Harry would give his up so casually as well. It would also lead to an uncomfortable conversation as to why Dumbledore had the Cloak that was rightfully Harry's. No, studying them was out of the question.

It forced him to give up on that bit of evidence to connect Death to Harry Potter.

Despite his statement to Flitwick about not searching for Evidence, it seemed his mind wanted to try and make the puzzle fit. It was rather frustrating to Dumbledore that he wasn't able to just let it go.

"Show me what is beyond the Cowl, Death. I find it disconcerting to be staring at nothing but flames while I speak with you." Dumbledore said honestly. He did not know what he was hoping for, but he wanted to see if he could actually see the face of Death.

"Very well Wulfric, but you may find it even more Disconcerting." Death drew the Cowl off his head and lowered it from his face. Dumbledore couldn't stop the gasp.

It was a skeletal face, ivory white of bone. Sickly emerald green flames danced in the eye sockets, and there wasn't a patch of skin on the head. There was no throat, no tongue, no lips. He was staring at the face of Death, and just as ominously predicted, it was even more disconcerting to Dumbledore.

But he couldn't bring himself to get Death to draw his Cowl back upon him.

Dumbledore swallowed a moment and sat a little straighter. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He was a Gryffindor and would not back down out of fear. "Is this-"

"Of course not." Seeing that jaw work without skin, words without lips or tongue or vocal chords was extremely odd. "I have an actual face, but Death must be faceless Wulfric, nameless. Not even the most advanced identification techniques in the world would work on me. This is my face when I have unleashed a fair bit of my power." One skeletal finger came up and ran over the cheek bone.

"But enough of that. Let us get to the first order of business." Death reached into his cloak and unclipped a strap that had been attacked to his back. He pulled until a plain sack was in his lap, and from it he pulled a black case with clips on it.

Death set it on Dumbledore's desk facing the Headmaster and he undid the clips. "For your peace of mind, the Blade of Cratos." Dumbledore stared at the silver Xiphos that Poppy and Minerva had both spoken of. The one that had possessed Harry.

The one that had gone missing.

"How did you- " Dumbledore reached out to touch it.

Death grabbed his wrist firmly. "I don't recommend touching it, Wulfric." Death said firmly. "The Blade of Cratos is not something to so casually touch. It is why I have it secured in a case, specially made for it. The conjuration going into it was not easy, but well worth it for everyone's safety."

Dumbledore flicked his eyes up to the skeletal face. "It should be studied. It was able to destroy a Horcrux."

"I am aware of its power, Wulfric." Death said before he closed the case. "But the Blade stays in my possession. A contemporary of mine had thrown it to the Potter boy, afterwards he had retrieved the blade and passed it along to me until I can find his successor."

"And who was your contemporary?" Dumbledore couldn't stop the question from spilling out of his lips. Who could be considered the contemporary of Death?

"War." Once again, Dumbledore felt as though if there were skin there, that face would be in a smirk.

Dumbledore decided that silence was the better part of valor and said nothing as Death put the case back away once more. There were so many questions to be asked, but Dumbledore didn't know which ones would be answered and which ones would cause more questions.

It was maddening really. He was so used to being in control of the conversation, of being able to pick up on subtle hints. He really did need to work on his habits.

"How did it destroy a Horcrux?" He decided to ask. If they could replicate that…

"It is the Blade of Cratos, the Greek Titan of Force. There was no magic to it Wulfric. It is not unlike Fiendfyre or Basilisk Venom. It simply destroyed the Horcrux through sheer brute force. It was won in a contest of Strength and since then War has held claim to the Xiphos ever since. It is like asking how basilisk venom destroys Horcruxes."

Dumbledore sighed. That meant so very little to him then. He ran his hand over his face, wondering how much of that statement was made up and how much was actually true.

It really was a puzzling circumstance that Dumbledore found himself in.

"The second reason I am here Wulfric." Death said a little more somberly. "You saved my life when we fought against M. Not once, but Twice. I find myself indebted to you."

Dumbledore waved his hand. "It is fine. I did what I thought I had to do." He had acted on reflex. He wasn't going to expect repayment for that.

"No, it's not fine." Death said seriously. "I had expected to die in that fight, I had expected my Death to resound behind the Veil of Death. Now, I am a ticking time bomb until the Lock resets with the new millennium. I was prepared to make that sacrifice. But you saved me Wulfric, and then again at a very dear cost to you." Death inclined his head to Dumbledore's pinned up sleeve.

"I offer you a one-time deal Wulfric, to have that which is most precious to you above all else." Death said. "I will leave tonight and I want you to think upon it. I will return after the New Year for your answer. Discuss it with your brother if you must, but know that if you decline then that will be upon you." Death's words were rather ominous to Dumbledore.

"I offer you closure."

Dumbledore's heart thudded at those four words. Did that mean Death was going to kill him? No. That wasn't the most precious of all to him. Was he talking about Gellert? No. It couldn't be that either.

"Ariana." Dumbledore whispered softly, too stunned for words.

Death stood up from his chair and turned. "I can summon her from her rest Wulfric. I can even bring Gellert Grindelwald to the site and keep him subdued until it is time to return him to Nurmengard. I offer you closure Wulfric, to finally know who threw the spell that killed Ariana."

"At what cost?' Dumbledore asked, standing up and actually drawing his wand upon Death. "I will not let you murder another human being to raise my sister." He said.

Death kept his back turned to Dumbledore. "I won't need to. A goat at most, it has been maybe a hundred years or so since her death. And I don't plan to animate her Corpse, Wulfric. I plan to summon her Spirit. Much more difficult Necromancy, but still just as potent. It will keep her from killing her murderer and torturing herself in the afterlife. Though, I will have to insist upon keeping it short. We are disturbing her slumber after all."

Dumbledore shook, so much that the Elder Wand fell from his hand to land on his desk. Tears streamed into his beard, he didn't know what to think. It was an emotionally heavy thing that Death was offering him. To see, to hear his precious sister once more and to finally find out who it had been to throw that lethal curse… It was almost too much to bear.

He collapsed into his chair, wondering.

"Will it hurt her to be raised?" Death's words about disturbing her slumber made Dumbledore curious.

"No. It won't. Imagine being in a nap and waking for just a few brief moments. Maybe to get a glass of water even, and then when you go back to going to sleep, you simply go without the slightest hint of trouble. That is what it is like to raise the deceased and to send them back to Slumber." Death began to walk forward. "Think on it Wulfric. I'll return after the first of the year."

Death then walked out, opening the door and quietly closing it behind him.

Dumbledore didn't know what to say at the extremely generous offer.

Dare he take it?

-**Chapter End-**


	44. Book 2: Chapter 17

_Last Time: Following Dumbledore awarding Harry with Recognition for Special Services to the School, Harry was publically smacked and then kissed by Susan Bones. While dealing with his feelings on the matter, Harry has planned out his winter holidays. Death went before Dumbledore and offered closure, to summon the spirit of Ariana Dumbledore so that the Headmaster may know who threw the spell that killed her._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 17

Harry huddled his head down into his scarf and tucked his hands into the pockets of the warm set of robes he wore. Dust was not with him for this meeting. As he had found out years ago, Dust loathed the cold in any shape or form, and the underground of Gringotts could be quite cold indeed. Only Harry's Deathly Aura was tolerable by the crow.

Oh well.

Harry considered the business proposal tucked inside his robes, thinking a bit. Andromeda had spoken with him the first day of the Holidays through the Floo. According to her, they couldn't get the laws repealed in time for the Quidditch World Cup, so they went about it in a different way. A way that would still let the Goblins of Gringotts sell their wares and make considerable money. The laws they were looking to change instead would take considerably less time but still allow for the Goblins to sell their wares, bringing profit to the Nation and getting the word out about them.

After all, civilized Goblins like those in Gringotts were rare. There were maybe four factions in the world, and Ragnarokk sat as High King of them all.

Through Gringotts, Goblins could be contracted for work. They could not, however, act as employees for a business. So the plan for now was for Andromeda to work on changing the laws, allowing Goblins to work outside of Gringotts without being contractors. Then, Harry would start a business of his own and hire Goblins on. It would also get them around the Ministry wanting to gouge the Goblins with taxes upon their wares.

Harry could bring them in through the Import/Export businesses he inherited since Gringotts was considered a Sovereign Nation. Then he sold them through the store front he would end up buying and the Ministry would charge him an eight point three five percent tax upon his wares.

All in all, it was a good plan.

And he would rent a plot of land at the Quidditch World Cup and set up a tent, just like those that intended to sell their little bobbles and souvenirs. The Goblins could, and would, take any draft worth gold from any of the major races that dealt with gold throughout the world. Dwarves and Gnomes included. They had human representatives that could, and did, go and collect the gold from the other races.

Economics and politics all rolled into one headache inducing package.

He arrived at Gringotts and moved through the door. He waited patiently in line before he handed a teller his invitation. It wasn't long before he was sitting once more, waiting for his Account Manager.

"Ah, Mr. Potter." Harry looked up to see Rotgut standing before him. He had waited less than five minutes. "This way." He said, motioning for Harry to follow him to the private area of Gringotts.

Harry stood up and followed. "Greetings Master Rotgut." Harry said. "It's been a few months."

"That it has Mr. Potter, and you have worked wonderfully to bring great wealth to your family vaults." Rotgut said. "At this rate, you'll have followed in Fleamont's footsteps and quadrupled your family's wealth, no easy feat."

"Yes well, whereas my grandfather sold the Sleakeazy company for a fair profit, I'm in it for the long haul." Harry said. "A much more difficult thing in my opinion." Trying to quadruple his wealth from the already considerable reserves of money his family had would be difficult without selling any of his assets.

That wasn't to say Fleamont's decision wasn't a wise one, but Harry knew it was still one of the highest grossing companies in Magical Britain. It could have been kept for a longer haul.

Harry glanced towards Rotgut a moment thinking. "Master Rotgut, if I may ask a personal question."

"I reserve the right to not answer it." Rotgut said simply.

"How much does your clan make from the Potter family, and how much do you personally make from the Potters?" Harry realized that such a question as asking how much a Goblin made could be considered extremely rude.

Rotgut shot Harry a weary look. One that said it had been mildly offensive. "My clan receives eight percent off the profits left after everything else comes off the top, every quarter. Two percent then goes to my personal vault. The rest of the profits then go to your vaults, Mr. Potter. And it can be taken as dire offense to ask a Goblin such a question. As in losing your hand dire."

Harry inclined his head. "Thank you for answering my question. Before you think to press for your Right of my hand, how long has your clan and you personally worked with the Potter family?"

"My clan has worked with the Potter family since before the founding of Gringotts, and I've personally overseen the last five generations, including yourself." Rotgut said, narrowing his beady eyes. It was clear that while he respected Harry to some degree, he was not above taking offense at Harry's questioning.

"Effective immediately, or as soon as I can make it go into effect, your clan is to increase its percentage to twelve percent, and you personally should have an increase to four percent of the profits. After everything has come off the top, of course." Harry said simply. Rotgut and his clan have helped Harry's family faithfully through the years to bring great wealth to the Potter name.

That deserved a reward in Harry's opinion.

Rotgut's eyes widened a moment before they narrowed. "Fifteen percent and five percent." He bargained.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "An increase to your clan of almost double and an increase of your own profits to near triple? With all respect intended Master Rotgut, but I must decline. I'm giving to my friends and allies, but I'm not a fool."

Rotgut let out a harsh laugh. "Well, let it be said that I at least tried." He said. "A generous donation, Mr. Potter, and one that Clan Rot will graciously accept. And here I thought Fleamont would bring me the most profit."

Harry inclined his head. He kept the fact that he wouldn't be able to do similar for Ironskull until he spoke with Sirius to himself. After all, that had to deal with the Black family finances, not the Potter family's. "Also, I need to make this happen." He pulled the scroll with his business proposal from his robes and passed it over to Rotgut.

Rotgut quickly read through the details, his eyebrows arching up. "Ambitious, and clever. Do you think it can happen?"

"My legal aid assures me that we can draft a bill that would pass, I just need to spin it the correct way. I'm also planning upon an event for the next Winter Holidays, put the Potter name and ballroom to use. I doubt it will win me many favors, especially since I do intend to invite non-humans to the event. However, it will also give me a chance to speak with members of the Wizengamot. Still, I'm told I have a certain flair for speaking my mind and having a razor sharp tongue. I may just be able to sway some of the more traditional minds."

"I sometimes wonder, Mr. Potter, that you are entirely too cunning and ambitious, and too bold. We will have to see if your boldness pays off." Rotgut said.

"Better to try and fail, than to be too cowardly to even make the attempt. At least I will have the peace of mind of knowing I tried." Harry said

"Yes, I suppose there is that."

The two continued deeper into the Goblin Nation, with Ironskull meeting them after a brief delay. It wasn't long before they were before High King Ragnarokk once more. The two goblins with Harry bowed, while he remained standing once more. He noticed the translator standing by the High King's side, eyeing him wearily once more. Harry didn't say a thing to him though

"Pale Rider." The High King greeted him.

"High King Ragnarokk." Harry said in return. He inclined his head in a show of respect.

"Come sit," High King Ragnarokk said, sweeping his arm towards the table.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Harry waited by the fire place. A book was in hand and a journal on the table next to him, allowing him to jot down notes based upon what he read. Despite being on Holiday, he never stopped attempting to learn. There was just too much to do, and too little time.

Time…

Now there was a frightening concept.

He was living on borrowed time, he knew that. His battle with Mephistopheles at the end of the last year told him that he was living on such. He got a fluke, got by on luck. Entire legions of warriors couldn't replicate what he had done, nor could an entire legion of mages.

And yet he was no closer to learning how to understand and harness that power.

He killed one of the creatures from Beyond the Veil of Death, actually killed one. No one in Dust's memory had ever killed one before. Trapped or sent back, that was the way of the Pale Rider in regards to those creatures.

Harry had bought himself a temporary reprieve. The moment the Creatures and their 'King' found out that Harry couldn't duplicate the feat, they would come at him in greater force than what the past Pale Riders could handle, and they would break through and come for Harry.

And he would be dead before the lock reset.

Harry wasn't afraid of Death, not really. It came for everything eventually, even someone like the Flamels who seemingly cheated Death. Truth be told, something they had to know as well, was that the Philosopher's Stone was merely a delaying tactic at best.

So when it was finally Harry's time, a time that seemed to fast approach, he would greet it with his head held high and his shoulders squared. It did not mean however that Harry was eager and rushing to meet his Death, so he had to employ as many delaying tactics as he possibly could

And so he brushed up on as many questionable pieces of magic that he could fathomably understand in such a short time. It was not like Runes where he was able to focus all of his effort on bringing down the Wards at the Grimmauld. With this sort of magic, he was left to resort to looking through the Potter Library and the truth of the matter was that even their most questionable Battle Magic was considered dark gray at worst.

Most Soul Magic plunged into the Abyss of Dark Magic, often making deals or giving something up in return. Like in Alchemy, Soul Magic was all about exchange, but it was usually heavily weighed towards the entity that had what the user was searching for.

But Harry couldn't make such deals.

Not because he was unable to, but because as the Pale Rider he could not be seen bowing to any of the entities that, when the Apocalypse came, would cease to be.

"This is maddening!" he said as he tossed the pen down on the table and ran his hands through his hair. He needed a break, he was stretching himself entirely too thin. He needed to refocus.

He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in the chair a little bit as he thought. Hannah would be there soon, so that was one bridge crossed. He would be speaking with Susan on Boxing Day, that was another bridge crossed.

He still had no idea what to say, but he knew when he was speaking to her and sticking to it.

The Duel against Malfoy Senior was just before the New Year, that was another Bridge Crossed. Hannah's artifacts would come in time. They both just had to be patient and get them when they came. So he set that on the back burner as well. His meeting with High King Ragnarokk went well, especially regarding Harry's idea, so that was set back. He had Andromeda working on the legalities and wording of the Law he wanted to change regarding the Goblins, so that was delegated elsewhere.

He would be speaking with Sirius at Christmas, so another bridge to be crossed. He needed to stop trying to think of the words to say, and simply let it come as it were.

That left trying to survive, the other two Riders, and Dumbledore's sister.

With his list of priorities narrowed down, Harry stood up and crossed the floor to a bookshelf. He began to run his fingers along the spine of the books. He had a gut feeling on two of the Riders, so he set that to the back as well and replaced it with training Hannah. That would be infinitely more important in the long run.

Dumbledore's sister was more pressing, he needed to know the proper spells. He would be able to get Grindelwald with little difficulties with Despair, and Harry was confident enough that he could keep the older wizard in line.

He set trying to survive in his free time. When the Creatures came, they would come. Harry would either be prepared for them or not. There was no point in driving himself even madder to try and fight the inevitable.

The flames roared and Hannah came stumbling out. Harry shook his head and moved over towards her. "Use just a pinch Hannah, and try and do a little hop at the end. You'll get better at it." He told her.

Millie was quick to clear the ash and soot off of Hannah.

Hannah shook her blonde hair which hung loose and thick around her head instead of in the usual pigtails. "I don't know how you know so much." She said.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Never hurts to ask someone. I asked Professor Flitwick when I first needed to use the Floo." He said.

"Alright, so what's going on?" Hannah asked. She offered a brilliant smile. "You made it clear that you just needed to see me." She said. Her eyes turned mischievous. "Is this about Sue?"

'No. Follow me." Harry said. He turned on his heels and began to walk away. He missed the frown on Hannah's face as she moved to follow him.

"Harry, you need to talk to her. She's been driving herself spare with worry."

"I know." Harry said. He didn't even turn to look at Hannah as he gathered his winter robes and pulled them on. He then headed out the back into the snow. Still, Hannah followed him.

"When are you going to talk to her?" Hannah asked. "Harry, she's my best friend and like a sister to me. But she won't tell me what's going on. All I can tell is she's frustrated. You two haven't seen each other or spoke since the incident in the Great Hall."

"I'm going to speak with her on Boxing Day, not sooner." Harry said a little firmly. "But you must understand Hannah, such a show of affection, even if friendly, I don't know what to do with it." He said. He led the way towards where Hermes, or Hermy as Millie called him, had built a paddock for both Despair and Plague.

"I didn't grow up in such a nurturing environment as you and Susan, Hannah. I'm confused, I don't know what to say. It's the elephant in the room between us. Except I don't want it to be and it's been conflicting with so many other things that I have to do." Harry said.

"Like your Duel with Malfoy?" Hannah asked with an even tone.

Harry gripped his hand tightly. "Especially that." He said tightly. "He hurt one of my friends, Hannah. His actions caused Susan to hurt others and I know it weighs heavily on her. I'm going to take everything from Lucius Malfoy and leave him his life so that he knows true despair."

"And if you lose?" Hannah asked.

Harry felt a wetness between his fingers, slipping down to the snow. "I won't." He said firmly before he opened the paddock and entered it. It was climate controlled so both of their mounts were comfortable. It also had a trough for both, though usually Plague went hunting in the surrounding forests for deer.

Hannah thought, briefly, to argue about it, but she eventually decided that it would be like fighting a losing battle and that there were better things to do with her breath. "So why did you ask me here and why were you adamant about me bringing my wand?" She asked as she drew it

Harry turned her towards a set of targets set up in the trees. "Simply put, when I was collecting my Artifacts, and eventually Despair, I needed to take my wand in for a tuning because of the increase of power." Harry drew his own wand out and showed the level of detail and customization to it. It wasn't just a wooden stick. "We need to determine if you need the same at this point or if your control is still at an acceptable level."

Hannah nodded her head and looked to Harry. "So what am I doing?" She asked. She turned to the training targets with a determined look on her face.

"Well…" Harry thought for a moment on the spells that she would know. He couldn't very well ask for a Piercing Hex or a Blasting Hex after all. They weren't Second Year spells, even if he knew them in his First Year. "Show me a Cutting Curse. Deep enough to mar the surface, not deep enough to cut through the targets." He said.

Hannah turned to look at him quizzically. "You can do that?" she asked.

Harry shook his head softly and sighed. He completely forgot that Hannah was still learning about being a Rider. And for a Rider, they did the impossible all the time. Three harsh slashes of his wand saw three of the dozen or so targets having a harsh line ripped through the surface of the wood. "It's all about control." Harry explained as his wand went away. "You need a steady hand and eye for just how deep you want to make the cut. Think of it like a scalpel. I know there are better spells suited for cutting in a patient setting, but the cut has to be precise, too deep and you risk doing damage."

Harry opened his robes and pulled up his shirt. "This stays between us." He said as he traced the scar along the left of his abdomen. "I did this personally. I cut myself open and put the Philosopher's Stone inside of my body. I could have killed myself, and I damaged my insides rather badly. I have a meeting with a Healer I can trust to heal it up properly soon, but the point is I didn't practice control." Harry lowered his shirt and closed his robes once more.

"_**He is not wrong Mistress."**_ Plague roared from where he lay. "_**Control is paramount to you and the Red Rider more than the others. In everything you do, you must have absolute control, absolute stillness and confidence. **_

"_**When you are astride my back, firing your bow, you must have confidence to hit your target, and the control necessary to do so. There is no trying. There is simply do, or do not. If you believe you cannot, then you will not. When a friend's life is in your hands, Mistress, there can only be do or do not."**_

Hannah looked over to her mount for a time before she returned her gaze towards the targets. "Do or do not." She said softly as she held her wand in her hand. There was no trying.

She thought of the time that Harry collapsed. She had not been able to help him then. She gripped her wand a bit tighter as she thought about it. There hadn't even been an attempt to help him, she had to have him rushed to Madam Pomfrey.

Do or do not.

Hannah focused her thoughts on the targets and the spell. She was adequate when it came to the spell, she could cast it a great number of times before she felt winded. But the way Harry had cast it without even incanting the spell, it made her feel like she wasn't as good as he was, even if she knew that wasn't his intentions.

Do or do not.

Hannah briefly scolded herself. She could do the spell just fine. Harry wasn't pushing for her to do the spell without speaking the incantation. He was telling her to control the spell. But she had never done it before. She had never thought to control the output of the spell. It was designed to cut through things, to cut through the vines of some of the trickier plants in Herbology. It was Professor Sprout that taught it.

She glanced over to Harry. How would they know if she had difficulty controlling the spell? Was he testing her? Was he testing her abilities to solve such a complex problem? It seemed like there should be a simple solution, to simply cast the spell. Yet… it was more complex than that.

There was no baseline for her spell power. Nothing to say if she had control or not, or if she needed something to help with her control. Did Harry think about that? If he did, he wasn't saying so. And Hannah wasn't able to pick up anything from his body language. He stood there, like a stoic statue.

Do or do not.

"_Diffindo!"_ She gave a harsh slash of the wand and sheared through the target. It fell in half completely, yet she didn't flinch or wince like she had made a mistake. She kept her face set with determination. That was the baseline. She could cut the target in half effortlessly.

She pointed her wand at the next one. She couldn't question herself anymore. She couldn't second guess herself. She almost cost Harry his life once. It would not happen again. She had failed him in Milan. If it were not for Plague, they would likely be in Prison, or worse.

She was not a Gryffindor, brave and bold.

She was not a Slytherin, cunning and ambitious.

She was not a Ravenclaw, with wit and wisdom.

She was a Hufflepuff, loyal and hardworking.

Harry needed her and she had failed him once. That was unacceptable. Loyalty came before fear. Even when scared, a Hufflepuff needed to be loyal. She could not let her fear burden her down.

Do or do not.

She turned to another target. "_Diffindo!" _It wasn't the near marring of the surface like Harry had done. She tore into the wooden target, but she didn't stop. She recognized it and accepted it and turned to another.

"_Diffindo!"_ Do or do not. There was nothing else to worry about. She decreased her power again as she turned to another target. She was still cutting deep gouges into the targets, but no longer was she cutting them apart.

"_Diffindo!" _Turn.

"_Diffindo!" _Turn.

"_Diffindo!"_

She breathed a little heavier. Control took quite a bit out of her. Clapping sounded behind her and she turned to it, breathing heavily. She watched Harry clap, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Excellent Hannah, very well done." Harry said as he began to move towards her. He glanced around at the targets and adjusted his glasses. "As your fellow Rider, I am proud of what you accomplished. Our actions can define the world around us. Will the Death rate skyrocket? Will pestilence and plague run rampant? Will there be an increase in Wars? Will Famine and disaster strike even harder? Our actions dictate these things, and so we must always be careful and in control of what we do."

He motioned to the targets around her. "This is but the first step of what it means to be a Rider. You must push on, regardless. You must have confidence in your abilities and your decisions." Harry carefully placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to be afraid, to doubt yourself. But do not let it consume you, do not let it in when you're making the decisions. Allow it to be in hindsight, and even then, do not let it consume you.

"Look forward with your head held high and proud, Hannah. Be confident in yourself, no one can ever make you doubt you as much as yourself." Harry squeezed her shoulder slightly.

Plague came over then with a thick bundle in his mouth that he set at Hannah's feet. _"__**For you, Mistress."**_ He purred. "_**The cloak of Pestilence, crafted from the feathers of a Strigoii when they took the form of birds. My fur acts as the binding for the feathers."**_

Hannah took up the cloak and unraveled it, sucking in her breath a bit as she swept it around on her shoulders. The outside was covered in feathers, feathers from what looked like owls. The inside, she could see that Plague's fur had been wound and bound the feathers so that they wouldn't fall out.

Whoever crafted the cloak had put a great deal of effort into it.

She felt her power welling up inside of her, and looked to Harry a moment. He still had that satisfied smile on his face.

She couldn't help but smile.

One step closer.

**-End Chapter-**

**A/N: Blah. I'm sorry folks, both about the delay and the shortness of this chapter. I feel like I would have had better results bashing my skull into my keyboard.**

**A Strigoii is a type of shape-shifting humanoid creature in Romanian mythology. It carries plagues to houses. **


	45. Book 2: Chapter 18

_Last Time: Harry had another dinner with the High King of the Goblin Nation. Harry has continued Hannah's training in what it means to be a Rider and she received her Cloak from Plague._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 18

Harry stepped from the Leaky Cauldron into the cold, crisp air of London on Christmas. Shops were closed, the streets mostly abandoned, and it was snowing. He drew his coat tighter around him, forgoing the use of robes as he traveled in Mundane London.

Some people had the unfortunate duty of working on Christmas Day and Harry felt for them. Even his own businesses were closed on Christmas.

He walked towards a street corner and hailed a taxi. He climbed effortlessly into the back of the cab. "Grimmauld Court please." He told the driver.

"You sure kid? That's a pretty rough place." The driver said.

"I'm sure, I have family that lives there."

Harry could have Flooed over to Number 12, but he felt it would be better to take a cab. It would allow him to better center himself. He was still angry with Sirius, but he needed to bury the hatchet. He needed to go visit his Godfather.

Not to mention Narcissa would tar his hide if he didn't

He had too many projects riding upon a Wizengamot full of traditional pure blood elitists to be acting like a petulant child. It was expected of him, as Heir Black, to spend Christmas with the Baron Black. Annoying, but that was how it was.

Perhaps the cabbie felt Harry's irritation, for the man didn't talk. The entire trip was done in silence. And when he got out at Grimmauld court, Harry paid the man. He also gave generously. Fifty pounds was more than plenty, but for Harry it was just being considerate to the fact the man had to work Christmas day.

Harry waited for the man to drive off before he began to walk towards Number 12. Even in a rougher area of London like Grimmauld, it was rather empty. He went up the stoop to the door and waved his hand at the lock. It clicked open and he stepped in.

Kreacher popped in just then and bowed a moment. "Young Master." The old House Elf rasped.

Harry took a moment to remove his coat and hang it up. "Hello Kreacher. How is everything?"

"Bad Master is still letting squatters into the Ancestral Home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." Kreacher said.

Harry made a sound of annoyance with his mouth. If they were there, he was gone. "Are any Order Members here?" he asked.

"No Young Master. Just Bad Master and Wolfie Friend."

Professor Lupin. Harry supposed that would be acceptable. "Thank you Kreacher. Would you mind making some Treacle Tart for dessert tonight?"

"Of course Young Master." Kreacher ambled off, no doubt to gather ingredients to make sure the treat was prepared.

Harry took a while to compose himself. He was still angry with Sirius. He would have thought the former inmate of Azkaban would understand what it was like to be locked up against his Will. It was infuriating how little the man thought. He just acted.

No doubt a side effect of the Dementors.

The man hadn't had the chance to grow up. His parents had been in their early twenties when they had him. Just barely out of school and fighting a war. And Sirius had reacted the night Harry needed him the most. He rushed after Pettigrew.

And now Harry didn't need the man.

Harry didn't need a parental figure. He didn't need a keeper. He could cook, he could clean, and he could manage his own finances. He had more tools for survival than some people twice his age were beginning to learn. Managing finances was always a learning process after all.

A part of him was tempted to just leave. To take the tongue lashing that Narcissa would give him stoically and be done with the whole endeavor. But he was better than that. He needed to be better than that. He needed to not give into that childish impulse, no matter how tempting it was.

Ruthlessly he worked to squash it. This was just as important as overcoming his claustrophobia. He felt out with his magic and quickly located both Sirius and Remus. Part of the parcel of being the Pale Rider was knowing where life forms were. It was a weaker power of Harry's, it had only recently become part of his training.

Certain powers were 'locked' for a time, and he simply had to wait.

He began to walk forward, heading towards the Parlor. Each footstep felt heavy, as though he wore a pair of boots made of iron. He took in the dark décor of the home, décor that Kreacher now kept spotlessly cleaned. It was darkly colored with dark hardwood flooring and paint. While the remodeling finances came out of the main Black Vault, Harry felt at least partially responsible for it.

And then Sirius had opened the house to the Order of the Phoenix.

It was just so… infuriating.

Harry stood at the door to the parlor. He could still leave. He could put this meeting off for a time when things weren't supposed to be as cheerful as Christmas. His fingers flexed as he debated silently, standing there. Sirius no doubt knew he was there as Lord Black and being tied to the Wards. But he could still leave.

Harry raised his chin and squared his shoulders. He adjusted his robes. No. He couldn't leave. He was Heir to two Ancient Houses. He was the Pale Rider. He couldn't simply back away from something for so foolish of a reason as he didn't want to do it. He grabbed the door knob and twisted, pushing the door open. He entered with all the confidence he didn't have.

Even if it was faked, he made it look as real as he could.

He could see the looks on Remus and Sirius' face, like one of them had been in the middle of a story from their school days and just reminiscing about the past. Sirius got up and smiled broadly. "Harry!" He called out, moving over with his arms outstretched.

Harry ducked under the right arm and shifted slightly around Sirius and placed his back against the older man's back. He could feel the surprise in Sirius' form. He could see the surprise on Remus' face. "You don't have the right to touch me Sirius." Harry said in a cold and tight tone. Oh yes, he was still angry. "You attempted to lock me up like a prisoner, you don't get to hug me and be friendly like that. I despise being touched as it is, I despise being holed up without any freedom. I would have thought a former prisoner would have thought about that."

Harry let his tongue cut with the razor sharpness that usually came to it when he was angry. He could feel Sirius flinch and he didn't even feel bad about it. He could see Remus' eyes widen slightly more, shocked that Harry had said that. But Harry didn't care.

"Your cell for the past several years was seven feet by seven feet. The cell that I was in until I found Dust was a boot cupboard. You want to make me a prisoner again? Fine. Try it, and you can find or make a new Heir for your family." Harry stepped away from Sirirus.

"There are some things that the words 'I'm sorry' don't fix, things that time doesn't mend. You want to be part of my family? Then you need to earn that right Sirius Black. I don't need a keeper, I don't need a father figure, and I don't need a mentor. I could self-study anything I want to learn." Harry made his way over to the empty lounge chair and slowly settled into it.

"This is your second and last chance Sirius. I don't forgive easily, and I don't forget. Now, knowing all that, do you still want me to spend Christmas here?" Harry asked.

A small part of Harry hoped Sirius said no.

"Yes." Sirius said softly before turning around to join Harry and Remus once more.

-_**Scene Break-**_

A form of black chitin armor stood on a cliff stoically staring out towards the void. Deep in the realm of the Dead, Azmodeus looked out towards the endless cycle of destruction that continued on since the beginning of everything. A cascade of an infinite number of worlds were sucked into a vortex, crushed and relentlessly ripped apart by the forces there until there was nothing left. Even his own home world was sucked in and destroyed, gone to the annals of time. The King, with His Awesome might, was able to forestall this plane from being sucked in indefinitely from His seat of power.

But even His Might was limited. He could not do it to another plane without sacrificing this one, and The King would not do such. Too much time and effort had gone into making this place of death and shadows and cold where He could raise an army up, an army built upon billions of souls from billions of worlds. The Hoard that was His Army was still not enough to take on the Balance.

And as The King's General, it would be up to him to enforce His Word. His Word was Law and His Law was Absolute. Dissenters would be punished harshly, swiftly, and without mercy. Those that went against His Law would deal with Azmodeus.

Azmodeus turned and began to stalk down the rocky crags and steps that led up to the cliff. He could have jumped down or even flown, but the walk allowed him to prepare. The shaft of his halberd tapped a steady staccato against the rock. Some of the smaller life forms scattered at the sound. They knew what was coming. An Enforcer of the King's Will, and someone had broken it.

The smaller life forms would never be able to ascend to a level matching Azmodeus'.

The form of life they took in this new life would depend solely upon their power in their previous life. For someone like Azmodeus, he had an unimaginable level of power, even in his previous life. When the King had come to Azmodeus' world, Azmodeus had been one of two entities in the entirety of his race to be able to not only would the King, but also scar Him.

But that was such a long, long time ago. Back before he realized the truth of the King's words. That they were all pawns to a higher master that needed to be brought down to their level.

The insects were the races that had no fight, no bite to their teeth. They had bowed and succumbed when the King came marching, and they paid the ultimate price for it. As insects, they didn't have the memories of their previous lives and would continue to be food for a higher power. He suspected all but the greatest of humanity would be insects.

He suspected some of them might be able to match Zoltan in power. No race was without the greatest of their powers. Fighters that sought to go down swinging, showing a force of Soul and Will. Even if their bodies were weak, even if they were considered idiots, strange, odd, or a whole host of derogatory terms by their peers, those that showed Soul and Will were always the individuals that stuck out, and would become greater in this new life.

He tended to make a game out of it as he watched the new souls get twisted and transformed. He had gotten quite good at it too. Some would surprise him, turning into a more predatory life form, but for the most part he was quite accurate in his assumption of who was an insect and who would be more.

He knew the King was not too worried about the latest Pale Rider. If necessary, they would hold off another thousand years and then destroy that one before taking the world. For the King, a thousand years was nothing. A brief nap in His Throne. Azmodeus had seen the King nap for a thousand years and consider it to be nothing even.

Azmodeus paused before the cave where he knew the dissenters were. Already, he could hear their voices. They thought to use one of his own barriers against him, to keep their voices from carrying. But Azmodeus already could hear them. He didn't focus on their words. He didn't care. He had already heard enough from them.

He gave the ground a harder tap with the pole of his halberd and watched the barrier vanish. The sound echoed through the cave, even as he forced the pole through the rock. The hush tones told him that the fools knew they were caught.

Still… it had to be done.

His footsteps sounded on the rocks as he moved into the cave. The stones shifted around him, accommodating for his size and mass. No doubt they thought that such a cramped area would help them. But not from Azmodeus, not from the King.

As he entered the chamber where he could feel them, smell them, and even hear them, he paused. A glowing purple flame formed in his right hand. It did not burn, but it showed off light quite wonderfully. He threw it at the ceiling where it splashed against the rocks and rained embers down, showing off the four plotters.

One looked like a serpent, one a scaled and feathered bird, another some sort of beast, and the last slightly surprised him. The weakest of the King's Hand, Heshlan. He was roughly humanoid like Azmodeus was, even if they were covered in chiton armor.

"_**For Crimes of going against the King's Word, you are sentenced to destruction.**_**" **Azmodeus declared loudly.

It figured that Heshlan would be the brains of the operation. While not the strongest of the King's Hand, he had gotten to that position by knowing where to strike.

"_**For wanting to aid our King in His March?!" **_Heshlan demanded, two scimitar like appendages forming in his hands. "_**The Pale Rider is still weak. We can invade the human realm and have him dead in weeks. The King would March!"**_

"_**Regardless of your desires, Heshlan, the King's Words are Absolute. You, best of all, should know this as a member of His Hand. The Laws are clear, you are a traitor, and thus must be dealt. No, because of your position as a member of His Hand, it is more imperative that you must be punished."**_

It was clear to both sides that negotiations, what little there could be of it, had broken down. Heshlan let out a spitting hiss before rushing, dragging both scimitars along the ground. No doubt he sought to slice Azmodeus apart.

The other three charged with their own weapons, but as unarmed as he was, Azmodeus didn't care. He grabbed the serpent by the head first. A set of jaws, jagged with teeth ripped free from his arm and clamped down upon the serpent's head, breaking through the armored like skin and tearing the head from it. A jaw opened in Azmodeus' chest and sank teeth into the body of the serpent.

He wrenched his hand free, a splatter of ichor marking his body as he bashed his hand against the side of Heshlan's scimitar. The beast charged with a battle axe, and he caught the haft of it before snapping it and causing the lower life form pain. His jaw split open impossibly wide and he engulfed the head of the beast with another splatter of ichor.

Gore dripped from his maw as he wrenched mouth free and chewed, crunching upon the other creature. Knives slammed into him from the bird creature, but his body began to eat at them as well, a dozen small mouths opening up and consuming. He stalked towards the bird life form that tried to flee. Azmodeus launched his arm out, stretching longer than his body seemed to grab the bird by the back and wrenching him back into the caves. Delightedly, he ripped into the other life form, his hands and feet taking chunks and eating them as more mouths seemed to form.

"_**And then there was one."**_ Ichor dripped from Azmodeus, wetted his footsteps as he stalked towards the panicking Heshlan.

There was no fleeing for Heshlan. There was no bargaining. There was just an all-consuming terror and horror. There would be no mercy, there would be no quarter. With another spitting hiss, Heshlan charged headlong into death itself.

Moments later, Azmodeus stepped from the cave groaning slightly as he clutched at his stomach. Cracking, breaking sounded, shifting of his chiton plates… He clawed at his skull as he fell to his knees. None Beyond the Veil of Death died. Not really… They were… recycled.

Four bulbous masses began to form along his back. Each no bigger than his head. They were covered in a thick mucus like fluid before the four masses fell off his back. He breathed a little easier as they landed on the hard stones. Tendrils from smaller caves shot out and collected the masses, dragging them back into the depths and darkness.

There, they would hatch into four new life forms, no longer Heshlan and his conspirators but instead as four new life forms. This was the fate of everything. To be consumed by a larger predator and recycled back through the food chain once more.

Azmodeus drew up to his full height once more and looked at his arm. With a harsh jerk downward, the battle axe of the beast creature formed in his hand. He gave it a few experimental swings before his body began to consume the mass once more and he grabbed his halberd.

The echoing sound of clapping and chains jangling had Azmodeus spinning to face a creature that wasn't there before when he exited from the cave. His halberd lowered at the sight of the creature that leapt from a rock it was sitting on. "_**Keeper."**_ Azmodeus greeted.

The creature's title was that of Keeper of Knowledge. It knew everything: Past, present, and future were all domains for this creatures words. A crimson cloak edged in gold stuck out like a beacon in the bleak and dark world of The King. Silver manacles around its wrists and ankles showed its status as a prisoner, though of who would depend on who was asked.

Some would say The King, but they were wrong. But the Keeper of Knowledge let those that didn't need to know, think what they wanted.

"_As impressive as always Azmodeus."_ The weight of the creature's words bore upon Azmodeus' mind like claws across rock. But give the creature had no mouth, instead its face ending in a mass of writhing and dripping tentacles that twitched with the words, the telepathy was not uncalled for.

"_**What is it that you want, Keeper?"**_ Azmodeus did not like it. It was a cowardly creature to him. One unworthy of speaking to The King, but He decreed that the Keeper may come and go as it pleases. Most of the time, it spent its days in the archives where all the knowledge was kept. None but the Keeper were allowed there except in special circumstances.

"_And as testy as usual, Azmodeus." _There was mirth to the creature's tone and the tentacles seemed to wiggle like it would giggle. "_I have information that He would like to hear. Information that He needs to hear."_

"_**Information pertaining to the here and now? Or the past? Or the future, Keeper?" **_Azmodeus spat. One of the things he hated about the information that the Keeper presented was that it was hardly in the right order of things. And it hardly seemed to care when its information was presented to the King. "_**And why bring it up to me? You have access to His Majesty as you please, per His Will."**_

"_I thought you might like to be there when I explain why the Pale Rider was capable of killing Zoltan, Azmodeus. After all, it has to deal with your- "_

Whatever the creature was going to say was cut off sharply when Azmodeus gripped its tentacles and gave a harsh yank until they were taut. He leaned into the face of the creature, staring into its large, bulbous and inky black eyes. "_**Finish that statement, Keeper of Knowledge, and I will make you suffer every moment for the rest of eternity. Consequences be damned."**_

Azmodeus took delight in watching those bulbous eyes turn misted. The Keeper of Knowledge used its powers to see the future, to no doubt see the consequences of what finishing the statement would bring. And Azmodeus waited patiently.

"_I see that I struck a nerve. I will endeavor not to strike it again." _The Keeper said, all hint of emotion out of its voice. It knew it treaded upon such uneven ground, that Azmodeus would make good on his threat.

Regardless of what even The King would do.

Azmodeus released his grip upon the creature's tentacles and turned sharply on his heel. He then marched back towards the throne room. He knew the creature would follow. It seemed that the Keeper had indeed brought forward information that was pertinent to that millennia.

The King sat up a little more in the shadows. "**Azmodeus, you are more tense than usual." **The Kings eyes weighed heavily upon Azmodeus as he moved towards the side and went into a kneel.

"_**The Keeper of Knowledge brings information, My Lord."**_

The creature shuffled into the room, clicks sounding upon the stone were its feet landed and the talons tapped the stone. It gave a low bow, bending at the waist. The longest of its tentacles brushed the floor before it raised back up. "_My Liege, a pleasure to see You again."_

"**How many years has it been this time Keeper?" **The King sounded more amused than anything.

"_Fifteen worlds have died, and seventeen born since last I stood before You, Sire. You have assimilated eight of these dead worlds."_

"**Hmm, I had thought it longer. I could have sworn it was seventy worlds."**

"_I am but a lowly creature, My Lord. I do not expect You to keep me within Your Notice."_

"**Azmodeus says that you bring information Keeper. Enlighten me."**

A clawed hand stuck out from the crimson robes and waved over the pool in the center of the Throne Room. The fight between Zoltan and the Pale Rider played out, and the Keeper stood upon the other side of it, drifting from side to side. "_The Pale Rider, the Key to the Lock on the Veil between this world, and the living world of the Human world. A lock that is currently weakened. Though many of the humans are nothing but food for the fodder, they will serve their purposes in Your Campaign, My Liege. As countless before them, as countless after them will."_

"**Yes, yes… Get to the point Keeper."** The King said, waving a hand that came from the shadows briefly.

The images came out of the pool at a wave of the hand of the Keeper. They continued to play until the Keeper waved its hand once more. It paused when the Harvester dealt the killing blow on Zoltan.

"_The Pale Rider believes this to be some sort of advanced form of Soul Magic. A primitive theory of a primitive and weak race, but… educated nonetheless. If you will look closer, My Lord." _The Image zoomed in upon the point of impact over and over again until it dominated the image.

It showed Zoltan's body collapsing into dust and spreading.

"**That's-"**

"_Yes My Lord, that is a branch of Destruction Force. Through the combination of several rudimentary pieces of magic, the Pale Rider was able to perform Destruction Force; and if I may be so bold, My King, the last life form was able to scar Your Glorious Form with Destruction Force."_

The King's one visible hand clenched tightly upon His throne. A scar ran along the length of His hand, past the wrist and disappearing into the shadows. "**Destruction Force is gone, Keeper. The Avatar of Destruction went against the Balance in his attempt to stop me. He consumed the Seals of the Apocalypse of his People prematurely to gain power. When they were all destroyed, he ushered in the Apocalypse and wiped his people from the cosmos.**

"**The Balance ripped his body apart, and sent the pieces across the cosmos. They ripped him into so many pieces and flung them so far that there is no way that he would be able to recover even by the end of time itself!"**

"_Of course My Lord, I do not dare argue with You over those facts. The Avatar of Destruction was the predecessor to the Riders of the Apocalypse that the Balance created then, an attempt to keep such a thing from happening again. The Avatar had gained much more power than it should have, and could have even destroyed the Balance should it have chosen to._

"_However its death is greatly… misleading." _An old and worn coin came from the folds of the robes and the Keeper played it over the talons on its hand. On one side of the coin was a hammer, on the other was a scythe. "_Two sides of the same coin, the Balance could not completely destroy the Avatar of Destruction so casually. The Avatar of Creation still lived on. Destruction and Creation live in a delicate Balance. Without one, the other cannot exist. And until they are both destroyed in their entirety, at the same time, they both will exist._

"_The Avatar is indeed formless, My Liege, but the Pale Rider… this… Harry Potter has come closer to Destruction than any previous Pale Rider of the Humans. Likely closer than many Riders have come in a very, very long time. None of my people's Riders certainly never touched upon the power of Destruction. His fight against Zoltan had pushed the Pale Rider to the brink of the abyss, to the brink of absolute Destruction. It was in that moment, as he teetered on the edge, that a mere flicker of Destruction's conscious touched upon his."_

With a wave of the Keeper's hand it played out the scene of the Pale Rider standing with the White Rider in front of one of the Seals of the Apocalypse. "_And they stood so carelessly before a Seal, this in turn fed the flicker of Destruction and with that little bit, the Avatar of Destruction awoke from its slumber. Formless, yes, but still so very dangerous. The Avatar rests within the Pale Rider, waiting… It will take the Rider's body, and it will consume the Seals once more, feeding power to its formless life. No doubt it views the humans as we do, nothing but a snack, but… Even an empty belly can be filled by snacks. And should the Avatar's belly get full, no doubt its body will come back from the Void, and it will leave a path of Destruction in its wake as it comes for You as it originally planned. Countless worlds will be laid waste to, anarchy and chaos will reign. But to Destruction, it is a noble sacrifice if it means that Order will return with Your Death, My King."_

The throne room was silent except for the bubbling of the pool that projected the images. The three beings in the room didn't even breathe as they digested the information. The Avatar of Destruction was still out there, still waiting to grow in strength and finish what it had started.

And it wouldn't stop until The King was dead.

"**Can the Pale Rider Ascend?"** The King asked after a while. Ascension was rare among the Riders, but not unheard of. It would undoubtedly put the Pale Rider even closer to the Avatar of Destruction, but that might be the perfect time for the Avatar to take the body.

The Keeper's eyes went unfocused a moment and the tentacles on its face stilled again. Slowly its head rolled back to face The King. "_The Pale Rider will have to break. He will have to have his world shatter around him and be drowning in the abyss. And he will have to claw his way out. Just as he reaches the surface, just as he begins to rebuild, the Avatar will strike. I dare not look any closer. The Avatar may react harshly to my prying. Should the Pale Rider repel the Avatar, then yes, the Pale Rider will have ascended. If not, the humans will be lost to You. The Avatar will consume the remaining Seals and when its body is destroyed, it will wait for the next Rider to touch its thoughts."_

"**Can the Pale Rider be converted, Keeper?"**

"_No. The Pale Rider will not be swayed, by anything or anyone. It views what You are attempting to do as a sort of blasphemy. Really, the humans are a primitive sort. They cannot fathom that what You are doing is helping them, allowing them to be more than what they are. Even the Pale Rider could be quite the asset if he would but listen."_

"**Azmodeus." **The King said, eyes turning to look at His General.

"_**My Liege?"**_ Azmodeus questioned.

"**Make preparations. Find me a weakness of the Pale Rider. I want access to the Avatar of Destruction's conscious. I want to feel it wiggling in the palm of my hand before I squeeze it into nothingness and show the cosmos that I am capable of what the Balance is not. I want the Rider among my Hand."**

"_**As You say, so it shall be done." **_Azmodeus stood and turned sharply, walking from the throne room.

He would not fail The King.

-**End Chapter-**

**A/N: Holy crap, I am so sorry guys. This was totally my fault. I got distracted the past… several weekends. Fable 2, Fable 3, Dark Souls… more Dark Souls… A lot more Dark Souls… Dark Souls 2…**

**Ahem.**

**Banging head into walls type of game aside, I hope you guys like this chapter. I want it to clear a little bit up and raise more questions. I want to show the sort of Cosmic scale of this thing and show that… Well frankly… Harry's awesome when compared to a human but is still a inconsequential when it comes to the Cosmic scale of things. **

**Don't worry next chapter will be more down to Earth as we enjoy Boxing Day with the Boneses again.**

**And no, Dark Souls 3 won't keep me from writing the chapter, I've only just started Dark Souls 2 after all.**

**Hunter Berserker Wolf, signing off.**


	46. Book 2: Chapter 19

_Last Time: Harry has begun to build bridges between himself and Sirius after their estrangement, but they both have a long way to go. Beyond the Veil of Death, The King has found out that Harry has tapped into the power of the Avatar of Destruction, and has begun learning a rudimentary form of the Destruction Force, power capable of destroying those The King has converted into his forces._

Book 2

Chapter 19

It was Boxing Day, and if Harry admitted it solely to himself, he was more than a little nervous. He stood fiddling with his clothes, staring into the mirror in quiet contemplation. He knew his clothes were perfect. Millie and Kreacher wouldn't have let him have anything but immaculate clothing. Still, as he stood in Regulus' old room, he knew for a fact he was stalling.

He had been up since before dawn, and had purposely extended everything longer than it should have been. His workout had taken another thirty minutes, he showered for forty-five minutes instead of fifteen. It was only the cold water that made him get out. Breakfast had been eaten in about thirty minutes as well, despite Kreacher's insistence to eat before things got cold.

He was dragging his feet in everything he did.

His talk with Susan was impending and even still, Harry had no idea what to say, what to do. Was he reading too much into it? It was thoroughly distracting. He was only twelve after all. But still, even he couldn't deny the facts. Susan was a pretty girl and he found himself relaxed around her. They were friends.

But were they like that? Did he want them to be like that? He thought he might like that. But what if he was just reading too much into the small kiss?

And what if they did try? What if it changed their relationship? It would mean teaching her would be even more difficult if things went sour between them. And it was a legitimate concern to have. She was blossoming into a powerful Necromancer, he didn't want to change that.

She had already figured out how to optimize her own raising ritual. It was something that Harry had just recently managed to do. What took him months, she had done in weeks.

It was an exciting prospect for him. But it once more led back into the problem that if things fell apart between them then her progress would likely be stunted. Or worse, she might stray off that fine path of being a good Necromancer.

If she started killing people just for her rituals, he would be forced to put her down and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to do that.

He gave a sound of frustration and yanked the tie off and just tossed it back onto his bed. He unbuttoned the top two buttons and let his neck breathe a moment. He really was having too many problems with this and he needed to figure them out.

He ran both hands through his messy hair, just messing it up once more. Why did she have to kiss him? Why did she have to put him through this? He doubted she meant to, but… but still. It was a problem to be had and he wasn't sure how to fix it.

Harry squared his shoulders and turned away from the mirror and headed out of Regulus' room. He headed down to the parlor where both Sirius and Remus were waiting, dressed more casually than he was.

"Aw, look Remus, he tried to handsome up for the Bones girl. Susan wasn't it?" Sirius joked, plunging his hands into the pockets of his pants.

Remus shook his head. "Drop it. I seem to remember you tripping over your tongue over a young Ravenclaw girl." He said.

"Oi! You said you'd never bring that up again!" Sirius turned on his friend. "Damn it Moony!"

Harry stepped past the two bickering adults. Amelia had said they could come with, and he wasn't entirely sure why. He grabbed the shrunken bundle of packages Kreacher offered and stuffed it into his pocket. He then grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder.

He quickly and quietly left without the two men. Let them bicker, maybe he could get there without them and they would forget about it.

He came out of the Floo gracefully and landed on his feet. Edmund was there and set to work removing the dust and soot. "Welcome Heir Potter." He said pleasantly.

"Hello Edmund."

"It is good that you are here. Young Susan has been… fretting… Something about a kiss?" Edmund asked, raising a brow.

Harry frowned momentarily. Hannah said that Susan had been worried, but to find out she had been fretting? It was a good thing he didn't plan to run away from this.

"I will handle it Edmund, don't worry." Harry said. "I'll see myself up Edmund, Sirius and Remus might be coming soon." Harry said and began to head up the stairs towards the main sitting room. As he walked the silent halls of the manor, he couldn't help but feel a pang of something in his chest.

Silence.

It was a deafening sound.

The halls should be bustling with activity, children, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. The manor was intended to support up to five families, with rooms for all. Same as Potter Manor. Same as many manors of the pure bloods of England. And yet… yet it held the deafening silence that came with emptiness.

Same as Potter Manor.

Harry frowned a bit as he thought about it. The bigotry and the violence between families had driven them to the brink of extinction. It was a crushing thing to think about, the burden to bring all of that back. To bring life back to the various families, back to Hogwarts.

Some would say it wasn't his burden that it was up to the adults. But no, it was his burden. It was up to him, to the other children to not repeat history.

He entered into the sitting area and wiped the frown from his face. "Hello Amelia, Susan, Hannah, Cassandra, Alastor, Kingsley." He greeted them all in turn as he entered, receiving greetings in return.

He took the shrunken package from his pocket and twisted the bow, unravelling it and causing the presents to return to normal size once more. He began to pass his gifts out. Merriment followed, with others giving out their gifts.

Sirius and Remus eventually managed to join them.

After almost an hour of being there, Moody took a swig from his hip flask. "Alright kid," He addressed Harry, causing a lot of commotion to stop. "I'm just blunt enough to address the dragon in the room." Harry gave him his full attention, and he noticed others giving it as well.

"Who's championing your fight against Lucius Malfoy?" Moody asked.

Harry frowned a moment. He could feel all the focus shift from Moody to him. No doubt, with three Law Enforcement agents, everyone there had found out about his coming duel. He took a sip of the hot tea he had, glancing around at people's reactions.

Sirius looked a bit worried, but hopeful. Remus looked worried. Susan looked the most worried. Hannah looked confident. Kingsley had his features schooled, but Harry could see the curiosity. Amelia was the only one that Harry couldn't read. Even Cassandra held worry and curiosity. Moody looked almost downright feral with anticipation.

All of them expected him to have someone champion his cause. Every one of them expected him to have another fight his battle. He didn't blame them for that. He was only twelve.

He set the tea cup down upon the saucer and looked directly into Moody's eyes. Both the normal one and the electric blue magical one that stayed locked firmly on Harry.

"No one. I will fight him myself." Harry said firmly.

Pandemonium broke out with everyone speaking at the same time. Harry couldn't make out a word, he didn't know who was trying to argue what. But he refused to have it. "Enough!" He roared out. His fury froze the hot tea in his cup.

Silence. It was a deafening sound.

Harry rose to his feet. "I am not a child to be coddled." He said. He had everyone's attention and he would get his point across.

He picked up his teacup and took it to a tray. He retrieved another one and poured himself another cup of tea from the pot. He added cream and sugar and briefly stirred. He turned to face the room and took another drink.

"Lucius Malfoy is predictable." He said. He set the teacup down on the saucer. "He's easy to learn, easy to provoke. He expects me to take a champion, so that he may have one of his own. Honor duels have a lot of rules that twist and turn and are quite convoluted. If I take one, so too will Lucius on one of those convoluted rules.

"But here is where Lucius gets predictable. I won't take a Champion and Lucius' pride will demand nothing less than him to face me personally. He would be a joke if he were to take a Champion against a twelve year old boy." Harry looked into the tea and swirled it slightly. "So he will step into the arena against me personally, all confidence and bravado. He won't take me seriously, and that will be his first mistake. I will strike hard and fast, and he will have to fight the rest of the duel injured."

Harry looked up at the assembled adults and other two children. "You don't see a warrior when you look at me. You don't see a duelist. You don't see a scholar. But I am all of those. I never stop. I never stop learning, I never stop practicing, I never stop trying. I better myself with every waking moment, never stopping, never letting failure bring me down.

"And come time for my duel against Lucius," Harry allowed his magic to flare along his skin. Electricity sparked along his fingertips in green energy. "Lucius will learn the same things you will. None of you can show Lucius the things I want him to learn. I want him to know despair, I want him to end up broken beyond repair. I want to show all of magical Britain what Lucius Malfoy is."

Harry clenched his fist and brought his power under control. "Nothing but a piece of branded cattle."

Harry finished the tea and took a moment to walk outside. He embraced the cold quite willingly. He had to let his words sink in, let them understand. Eventually the merriment would return to the Bones Manor, but Harry needed a moment to himself.

The doubt they held was infuriating.

Harry just let his feet carry him, and he eventually came to the mausoleum on the grounds. He could feel the death energies inside, and it soothed him. Comforted him.

Eventually he heard footsteps crunching in the snow, but he didn't move from his spot, leaning up against a tree.

"You know, you're pretty predictable yourself Mister." Susan's voice said softly as she came up beside him. "I knew you'd come here."

"Just as I knew you'd be the one to find me. You're my protégé in the Death Arts after all." Harry said simply. They both stared at the mausoleum for a time.

"Can you win?" Susan asked in a soft whisper.

Harry didn't get angry at the question. He could hear the tremble in her voice. She was worried that something might happen to him. Susan needed reassurance, the adults likely thought he couldn't do it, or shouldn't do it.

Harry smiled as he turned to face Susan. "I fought a Creature from Beyond the Veil of Death last year. Unflinching, unyielding, and I wasn't as skilled or powerful as I am now. Like I said before Susan, I don't stop practicing, I don't stop learning. Just a few short weeks ago, I slew a basilisk, a massive record breaking thousand year old basilisk that was driven insane

"Now I know I won't have all my artifacts with me, but I think compared to that, the likes of Lucius Malfoy in a structured duel will be a bit easier." Harry hesitated a moment before he put a hand on Susan's shoulder. "Relax Sue, I can handle the likes of Lucius Malfoy." He said confidently.

She offered him a weak but genuine smile. "You're right." She seemed to be comforted by Harry's confidence.

Harry drew his hand back slowly and shifted on his feet. He cleared his throat slightly. No doubt he looked nervous. "We… uh… we need to clear the air between us. Edmund and Hannah both said you've been a mess."

Susan flushed deeply and looked down at her feet.

Harry inhaled a bit. This wasn't going to be easy. He was twelve years old for one. "Truth be told I've been a bit of a mess as well." He said, looking back towards the mausoleum and not at the redhead. "Completely scatterbrained, I can't concentrate worth a thing."

"Harry I- " Susan began. Harry cut her off by placing a fingertip against her lips, turning to face her.

"Let me say my bit first." He said softly. He inhaled a moment and drew his hand back. "You, Hannah, your aunt, Cassandra, you've all started to see things, see the scars that are inside, see the demons that have their spurs dug into me. I- I'm not good at the emotional." Harry explained. "That part of me was stunted, it was… it just never had the chance to develop.

"And then, then I learn about this magical world, this world where I'm an important part. I'm not a useless lump of flesh, I'm not a freak. I have a place in this world." Harry ran his hands through his hair, turning away from her. "And all I felt was anger. Fury. It threatened to consume me. And before it could, Dust and I stunted my emotions again, placing a lock on them that only just broke last year.

"I'm not good at the emotional, I haven't had the chance to explore it. Everything has been so… distant and logical. And frankly, that's my comfort zone. It's where I know how things work." Harry didn't look at Susan. "I didn't have parents. I don't know how things work between two people like that." Harry inhaled again.

"But…" Harry bit his lip and brought his scattered thoughts together. "I enjoy my time with you, Sue. Most the time, when I'm working with you, I'm happy. You're smart, funny, and generally know how to have a good time. You keep me from overworking myself. You let me feel like I can be something other than this icy cold fortress. And you're pretty to boot." Harry kept himself from flushing, he would not be embarrassed.

He turned to face her once more. Harry could see the flush on Susan's cheeks. "What I guess I'm trying to say, is if you want to have a go at being together like that…" Harry bit his tongue. "I'd be more than happy to try. I know we're twelve and likely to stumble and bumble through things, and I know I won't be the most… emotional of partners, but I'd be happy to try and I'll try to always be honest with you."

There. Harry said it. He turned to face the mausoleum once more. It suddenly felt cold to him. He had no idea what the future would bring, or how long they would have a future. But he said it. It was a weight off his shoulders, though his chest felt tight with another weight.

Susan's answer.

Harry wasn't stupid enough to believe that there was anything more than a mild crush there between them. Certainly not love. But even still, he wanted to explore it, to see where it would take them. Undoubtedly they would have their ups and downs if she chose to explore it with him, but… Harry wanted to experience it.

After a while, Harry could feel it. Susan's hand slipped into his and squeezed. He felt her lean against his arm and place her chin against his shoulder. "I'd be delighted to." She said softly.

-_**Scene Break-**_

It was time. It was finally time and Harry dressed the part. He wore all dark colors to his clothing. The slacks were a dark charcoal grey, as was the shirt. But the vest was jet black and edged in a bright silver that offered a contrast. Even the buttons keeping it closed were done in the bright, gleaming silver.

Madam Arachne did a good job.

The boots were done in Hydra hide from one of his Hydra. The head was knocked off and it sprouted two more. The keepers took advantage and harvested the dead head. The boots themselves were quite nice actually, comfortable.

And as white as the snow.

Some theorized that Hydra hide allowed someone to move easier in water, like walking on land, but no one had thus far been able to prove it without a shadow of a doubt. Harry thought it might be linked to the type of Hydra. He knew some were aquatic and usually stayed in water. Others however were primarily land dwelling, and didn't go near the water.

His boots came from a land dwelling Hydra.

Harry headed downstairs from the master bedroom of Potter Manor. Millie was there with a case already, holding it out. "Master Harry." She squeaked out.

"Millie." He said as he opened the case. Inside was his wand, freshly cleaned and polished. The top of the case had his wand holster, the leather freshly oiled. He took it and strapped it to his arm and accepted his wand.

"Yous be careful tonight, Master Harry." Millie said.

"Of course Millie." Harry said. He bent down to one knee and hugged the little elf who returned the gesture. "I wouldn't want you guys to end up going to someone else."

Harry rose to his feet then and headed for the Floo. He headed through and began walking through the atrium. No doubt he elicited quite the response. As sharply dressed as he was, he wasn't wearing a set of robes, something that had been considered a staple among the clothes for witches and wizards.

He stopped at the check in. The Auror was already waiting with a box. "Mr. Potter, please relinquish your wand." The man said.

Harry looked to the wand already inside the box. A snake handle on the end of it and done in a black lacquer. He relinquished his wand inside the box and it was snapped shut. "You will receive your wand prior to the duel, please refrain from instigating Mr. Malfoy until then."

Harry nodded his acceptance and moved on through. He could see that there were more people there than there had been the year before. No doubt many of them wanted to see the duel between himself and Malfoy.

Harry went around, careful to keep his eyes upon the white blonde hair of Malfoy senior. He talked with a few people he had wanted to work out a contract with but just hadn't been able to make a face to face with them. Of course, they would need more than one, but it was a start.

"Susan?" Harry asked when he saw the splotch of red hair. He had not expected the girl to be there.

"Harry!" She spun around to face him. She wore a pretty yellow and black dress with her hair pinned up.

"What are you doing here?" He asked as he moved closer. He didn't want Susan to see him like he was going to be that night. He wasn't going to be nice. He was going to be vicious, dark, and perhaps a touch cruel.

"Well, Auntie hates these sort of things and so we usually don't come to them." Susan said. A song started up and she took Harry's hand to go dance, something he easily went with to do. "But, since you have a big event, and considering the event, Auntie felt like she had to make a presence so that nothing bad happens, and I just got dragged along. Cassandra would have watched, but Auntie felt like I would be better off here, seeing what happens."

Harry wasn't thrilled about it, but what could he honestly do. "Who else is here?" He asked as he danced with Susan. She had been there longer after all.

"Well, Kingsley is here, working as one of the Aurors on Security. Auntie is here of course. Lord Black is here, but he's been behaved. Alastor is here as well, he's keeping an eye on Lord Black I think. Professor Flitwick I saw as one of the people setting up the wards around the dueling arena."

Harry nodded softly as he continued moving with Susan in the dance. Everyone that wanted him to take on a Champion. Even Flitwick had briefly spoken with him about it. But ultimately, he understood that it was Harry's choice and dropped it.

When the song finished, Harry stepped back and took Susan's hand in his. He brushed his lips across the back of her knuckles. "Thank you for the dance Susan, I will see you later." He said

"Bye Harry." The blushing redhead managed to get out.

Harry headed off, pausing long enough to get some water from one of the House Elves acting as waiters. He kept his distance from Lucius, even if he wanted to speak with Narcissa and apologize about how things would happen.

In time, Harry's focus came to a finely crafted ice sculpture that seemed to twist and turn on itself. It was of… something. Harry wasn't entirely sure what it was supposed to be. But given he had an affinity for ice, it was an interesting piece of magic to note.

"Harry, my boy, just who I was looking for." Harry turned to see Cornelius Fudge coming up. He looked a little jovial even

A little too jovial if Harry was honest, especially considering Harry was going to ruin one of his backers.

Still there was etiquette to follow. "Minister, a pleasure." Harry said, shaking hands with the man. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was hoping I could consider asking you to bow out of this duel. It's a messy bit of business Harry, totally unnecessary. Whatever problems you have with Lucius surely don't need to be dragged out into such a thing. They can be settled in a more civilized manner."

Harry's anger was quick to ignite, but he pushed it down. He couldn't show it in such a public setting. "Minister, with all respect intended. But no." Harry said bluntly.

"But-" Fudge started.

Harry held up a hand with all the imperiousness of a Lord that silenced the Minister. "Minister, Lucius Malfoy attempted to attack me. I will not allow such a grievous offense to go unchallenged. He attempted to use an Unforgivable on me. Now with our current legal system, I fully understand that it is my word against his and I will not be called some slanderous child. I took matters into my own hands, and I will handle it with my own hands.

"I will have enemies based upon my political actions and my business decisions. I want them to think twice before challenging me, because I will not back down, I will not yield, and I will not break." Harry said firmly. He noticed they were drawing attention and Fudge was getting a little red in the face. "Lucius Malfoy thinks he can attack me with a lethal spell? I will bring the full weight of my magical power to show him otherwise. And frankly, Minister Fudge, you have personally insulted me, coming to me to try and convince me to bow out of this duel instead of going to Lucius to convince him to concede."

Harry was pleased to witness the color drain from Fudge's face. The man was a puppet, and thought of Harry as some sort of child to be molded. Harry turned briskly on his heel and walked away from the man, refusing to let him say any more.

Harry sampled some of the food offered, keeping to himself for the remainder of the time. Many of the people there were on Lucius' side of things, and no doubt wanted to see Harry humiliated in a duel. No need to let them rile him up and have anger cloud his judgement

Finally Kingsley came up to him. "Heir Potter," Just because they were familiar didn't mean Kingsley didn't have to stand on ceremony. "It's time." He said.

Harry nodded and followed Kingsley towards the dueling arena that had been set up through a set of double doors. He passed over the line of wards and quickly took a spot to the side. He could see that the wards were just waiting to be brought up. It would keep the spectators safe from all but the heaviest hitting spells.

Lucius was brought in by another Auror and stationed at the far side of the arena, some twenty feet away. The party goers began to come in, moving to the stands that had been set up with chairs for everyone in attendance.

Harry and Lucius simply watched one another. Harry's gaze was passive, but Lucius was a glower. The man was quite angry. The box containing their wands was brought to them, Harry first. He accepted his wand and twirled it between his fingers before he held it in a loose grip pointed towards the ground.

Lucius accepted his and held it pointed downwards as well.

Only a judge remained in the wards with them and motioned them both forward. "Duelists step forward." He commanded.

Harry began to walk forward. Calm and quiet, his footsteps didn't even sound upon the marble flooring. Lucius' boots sounded against the marble, a harsh sound of a hard sole. The paused about five feet from one another around the middle of the arena.

"Duelists ready?!" The judge commanded. "Bow!"

Harry didn't budge and neither did Lucius though likely for entirely different reasons.

"Bow!" The Judge commanded once more.

Lucius offered only the barest of inclination of his head. His shoulders bending just barely enough to be considered a bow. Harry returned the gesture, though it galled something in him something fiercely.

"Return to your starting positions and wait for my signal!" The Judge commanded before backing up to the edge of the wards.

Harry turned sharply on his heel and took one step when Lucius' voice cut through the silence. "I will enjoy making everyone here see you fall."

Harry paused a moment and heard the sound of Lucius' harder soles. "A piece of branded cattle like yourself has no hope of making me fall." Harry cut back before beginning his walk towards his starting position. He turned sharply and faced Lucius.

The starting positions were only ten feet apart instead of the full twenty, of the arena. It was intended to give the duelists time to move back if they felt the need to.

The judge looked to both of them. "Begin!" He roared out before stepping out of the wards.

Lucius stepped forward, his wand striking out. "_Expelliarmus!" _He would show everyone what an upstart Harry Potter was, using a basic spell and showing that the child was in over his head.

Harry watched the crimson spell streak towards him and he took it head on. His wand came from his hand and spun through the air. It was maybe five feet away when Harry finally moved. He stepped forward and thrust out his left palm and held his right hand back and up by his head.

Lucius was blasted by a concussive wave of air that sent him sprawling across the marble and into the wards of the arena. Harry's wand hung in the air before spinning back to his hand where he grabbed and held the handle of it.

"Think for a second that I need my wand to duel you like a wizard, and you've already lost Lucius." Harry said coldly. "You treat me like a child, like a little school boy and you're not taking me seriously."

Lucius got up to his feet and flipped his blonde hair back. The glare he sent Harry's way would have put Harry six feet under if looks could kill. Lucius sent out a silent over powered blasting hex.

Harry surged magic to his left hand and swatted the spell back behind him as he began to walk forward. The spell exploded violently, but harmlessly against the ward behind him. "You're still not taking me seriously!" Harry twirled his hand in a circle and a blast of air sent Lucius skidding to the left to slam into the wards once more.

Harry began to walk more in a circle. "There's no masks here Lucius. No Master for you to hide behind, no claims of being an _Imperius_'d victim. You're all alone by yourself here. No shadows for you to hide in. I have to fear of you. And Voldemort's name means nothing to me. I fear nothing of a branded Cattle not fit to hold himself within the same social circles as me." Harry let his voice drift. He knew there were others branded by Voldemort, others that had claimed the same thing.

Harry would let them know they were all on notice. He was not afraid of them, and he would not let them push him or anyone else around so casually.

Lucius forced himself back to his feet, gritting his teeth. He began to send truly dangerous things at Harry then. Blood boiling curses, bone breaking curses, flaying curses, even a curse that would cause the victim's eyes to explode violently. They were not the curses of a schoolyard bully but the curses of a truly deranged mind.

And none of them hit.

Harry ducked, weaved, dodged, and rolled around the spells so casually. It was like a morning work out to him. Lucius Malfoy was a Flourish Dueler. He tended to use his other arm in fancy movements, and combined it with fancy wand movements to distract the other duelist. But Harry remained focused. Frankly, Lucius couldn't bring enough power to bear to harm him like that.

"You. Still. Aren't. Taking. This. Seriously!" Harry shielded against a particularly dangerous curse that left Lucius panting. "Where is the creativity? Where is your spirit? Are you such a piece of branded cattle that you cannot think, cannot duel on your own? You cannot do something, anything special?"

With Lucius winded and needing a moment to recover, Harry scoffed. The man had no training, no conditioning. He was used to fear finishing the job for him.

"Magic is a thing of fluidity. It is a thing of creation, of creativity and imagination." Harry said. He held both hands down, his wand pointed down and his left hand open. Power came to his hands. "Magic is something that should respond to your will, your creativity, your spirit. And you, a branded piece of cattle has none of that."

The double doors burst open and the large ice sculpture came floating in past the wards. It circled lazily around Harry. "And it disgusts me. You? Consider an elite?" The sculpture shattered before the ice began to reform into a dozen balls the size of a football around Harry's body, spinning around him. "You're nothing but cattle, and not even a cattle worth mentioning. You're trash."

Harry thrust out his hand and the balls shot forward along his arm. The first one slammed into Lucius and sent him backwards again. Two more came at the soft spots along his sides, striking at the kidneys. Another slammed into his back and sent him sprawling over towards Harry.

Harry kicked the down man in the ribs before stepping back. The orbs floated back around Harry, lazily spinning in a loose ring. "Come on, show me anything interesting."

Lucius got to his feet. He ached, he hurt, his chest demanded air. He summoned a flame whip to his wand and lashed out with it at Harry.

Harry growled before one of the orbs knocked the whip away. He paid Lucius in kind by sending one of the orbs to strike Lucius in the face. The satisfying sound of bone breaking echoed out against the marble.

"Judge call this match." Harry said. "It's clear I outclass his him."

Lucius snarled before he forced himself to his feet. He wasn't thinking straight. He thrust his wand out. "_Avada Kedavra!" _He snarled.

Harry took the green spell to the body and let it splash harmlessly against him. He had the Shadow Cowl under his shirt of course. "Is that it? You don't get your way and resort to a childish spell?"

Lucius flew into a rage. Twice more he cast it at Harry, twice more it splashed harmlessly against him. It didn't even singe his clothing. Rage filled Lucius and he saw a splash of red in the stands as the people that followed him looked at him like he was pathetic. He saw the Aurors moving in. His gaze settled on Susan Bones.

The stupid little girl just couldn't have died. He wouldn't have been forced into the mess had it not been for that stupid… little… girl. His wand came up. "Avada-"

Harry cast the only spell from his wand. "Absolute End!" He roared out. His ice spell of the highest order took Lucius in the chest.

With as much water as there was in the human body, Lucius Malfoy was frozen solid in under ten seconds, and so very dead.

Harry stood there with his wand still pointed at the frozen statue, he just knew there would be fallout.

-**End Chapter-**


	47. Book 2: Chapter 20

_Last Time: Harry and Susan have finally talked. They have decided on trying their budding relationship, both going in knowing they will make mistakes. Harry's Duel with Lucius has finally arrived as well and Harry showed the power of the Pale Rider, completely making a fool of Lucius. In a fit of rage, Lucius resorted to the Killing Curse, blasting Harry twice with it before turning his wand on Susan Bones in the crowd. Harry retorted with the Absolute End spell that ended Lucius' life before he could kill Susan._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 20

Harry stepped out of the Floo in Potter Manor. His wand flicked out and he took a moment to clear the ashes from the expensive clothing. With a sigh, he looked to his favorite arm chair and began to make his way towards it. "Millie, could you make me some of the tea that Professor Flitwick sent? I'd like it brewed particularly strong if you wouldn't mind."

He knew it was his House Elf, but that didn't mean he had to be demanding.

"Of course Master Harry!" Millie called out cheerfully before a pop sounded and she was away to the kitchen.

Harry rubbed his face with one hand. He needed to figure out how to deal with the problems that would pop up from killing Lucius Malfoy. Before he could start though, his fire place roared up with green flames and the head of Amelia Bones stuck through.

"Evening Harry, do you mind if I come through?" She asked.

Harry stood up and moved over to the mantle. He tapped a small crystal on top before moving back. "Wards are open Madam Bones." He said.

Harry returned to his arm chair and sat down. In moments, Amelia came through. She was still dressed from the Ministry Ball in a modest but practical evening dress. Her hair was done up in a simple bun, and even her usually ever present monocle was gone from her left eye. A small snort came from Harry's lips as she stumbled slightly, the clacking of the small heels alerting him to what caused it.

"Damned things." Amelia said taking a seat in the opposite arm chair and slipping them off.

Harry flicked his wand out and spun it around so that the handle faced Amelia. She looked surprised. "You have to take me in as a formality, right?" He asked. "I did just kill a man after all."

Amelia shook her hand. "Keep your wand Harry." She said. "There's no formality needed in this instance. And I'm not here as the Head of the DMLE except to tell you that there will be no legal repercussions for what you did. It's no different than an Auror using lethal force on a perpetrator that's proven to be a risk to the Auror's life and the lives around them. So, keep your wand Harry. If it were up to me, I'd be giving you a medal."

Harry tucked his wand away and looked over to the brown eyes of Amelia Bones. "Then, politely, Amelia, why are you here?" Millie popped in then and set the silver tray between them with two tea cups and a pot of hot tea. Harry began to prepare his cup.

"I'm here as a friend Harry. While definitely not as close as Hannah or Susan, I'd like to consider myself your friend, to be privy to some of your secrets. And I'm probably the closest thing you have to a respectable female role model in your life. You need to be able to talk with adults Harry. You have Flitwick, and I would like you to be able to talk with me about what's going through that head of yours." She then began to prepare her own cup of tea.

"Careful, it's a particularly strong blend of Goblin Tea." Harry explained before he took a sip from his cup.

Amelia nodded and soon took a careful drink of the strong blend of spices. "So I'll get right to the heart of the matter Harry. I know it's been less than an hour since it's happened. But you've had the chance to come down from the adrenaline rush. How do you feel about having killed a man? Forget it's Lucius Malfoy for just a moment. I want your honest opinion."

Harry leaned back. "I'm probably going to get sick of hearing those words in the coming weeks." He said softly. He sipped at his tea. "Susan, Hannah, Flitwick, Sirius, Professor Lupin, yourself, even Narcissa, I fully expect every one of those people to ask that question. 'How do you feel?'" Harry shook his head softly and laughed a little bit.

"Honestly? I feel nothing." Harry was honest. "I took no pleasure in killing Lucius, but I do not regret it. I do not feel bad about it. The most I feel bad about is that I feel nothing. Sure, Lucius was scum and trash, a branded cattle. But he was still alive. Shouldn't I feel something? Regret? Pleasure? Anything at all must feel better than feeling nothing."

Harry looked once more to Amelia who simply watched and listened. "Despite the anger I felt at the time, I now feel nothing. Perhaps confusion at best. Why was I so angry? What about Lucius Malfoy made me so… " Harry waved his hand, unable to find a word. "I'm usually more intelligent, more articulate, more creative. Yet I just kept calling him a branded cattle. It retrospect, I seemed out of touch, and I just don't know what it was that drove me to that.

"I know I am magically gifted and strong. But compared to Lucius… it was completely one-sided. It was over as quickly as it began. So Why? Why? Why is it people were so afraid of Lucius Malfoy if that was the best he could bring? Have our people gotten so complacent, so willing to sit on their laurels that they have stagnated that scum like Lucius Malfoy was such a danger that everyone was afraid of him? Afraid to stand up against him. He was a bully and nothing more.

"You ask what I feel about my first kill," Harry shook his head. "I feel nothing. Not regret, not pleasure. I feel anger that it was necessary because we as a people have grown stagnant and let such cancerous people back us into a corner and attempt to rule us with fear. But over the act of killing Lucius? I feel nothing, and likely will never feel anything. Even forty, fifty, sixty years down the road, I will feel nothing. I will feel nothing when I am on my death bed."

Amelia took a deep drink of her tea before she set the cup and saucer down on the silver tray. "Harry, I can't say… I'm pleased to hear that." She said. She didn't want to think of Harry as unfeeling. "But I understand what you're saying, and I think it's a good step in the right direction, to recognize that you should feel something about killing someone. It shouldn't get easier, and you should never have no feelings regarding it. I'm probably the first of many who are going to tell you that. I'd recommend going to a Mental Healer, but we both know you won't take that recommendation. But you need to slow down, take a bit to relax. Learn to live a little."

Amelia stood up and went to the fireplace. She grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder and looked to Harry over her shoulder. "If you ever need to talk, about anything, don't hesitate, please.'

Harry inclined his head and watched Amelia Floo out. He stayed there in his seat for a while longer, simply drinking his tea and thinking.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Harry worked out in a special room he had set up. He was faced against a pillar with various posts sticking out that tended to show up in Martial Arts films from time to time. He worked at it as quickly as he could with his arms and legs, elbows and knees working in tandem. He still got hit, his hand to hand skills not quite up to par with his skills with the Harvester.

But even still, he lost himself in the memories of his predecessors and their fighting styles, the times they had fought with just their hands. So, he practiced the skills. His body bruised and sweaty, but he enjoyed it anyways.

"Master Harry! A man froms the newspapers is in the fireplace." Millie had come rushing in.

Harry frowned a moment. Lucius' death had only been last night. He paused a moment and caught a few of the wooden posts so they wouldn't hit him. So what would a reporter want with him? Did Harry even want to speak with a reporter?

"Allow him through and lead him to the Parlor. Get some tea and biscuits and politely ask him to wait fifteen minutes." Harry said. Harry didn't know what the reporter wanted, but it would be poor form for him to not at least not speak with the man.

Even poorer to show up sweaty from working out.

So Harry went and took a hot shower to get the grime and sweat off his body. He then dressed in a nice pair of black slacks with a green polo shirt. He smoothed down the collar before he strapped his wand to his right wrist, a blatant show that he still had it perhaps. He then slipped his feet into a pair of boots before heading down to greet the reporter.

Harry entered the parlor and got his first glimpse of the man. The man was tall and lanky, balding on the top and graying on the sides. His face was clean shaven and showed his age, or showed that his job had aged him. Of which, Harry wasn't certain. He wore a pair of plain smart gray robes. Simple and tasteful.

He was fiddling with a black feathered quill and some parchment, clearly making sure the enchantments on the quill would write as he dictated words to it.

Harry gently coughed into his hand, making the man jump to his feet. "Oh, Mister Potter! I didn't see you there." The man stood up. "My name is Stanley Goodfried of the _Daily Prophet_." Harry placed the accent as foreign. It definitely wasn't an Englishman's accent. An American perhaps…

"Please, Mister Goodfried, have a seat." Harry said, motioning to the arm chair that the man had jumped up from. Harry moved over to the other that went with the table and sat down. Harry began to make some tea. "So tell me, what is a reporter from the Daily Prophet doing here?"

Goodfried cleared his through and seemed to look a little nervous about something.

Harry watched the man. "Mister Goodfried, relax, please. I'm not going to be upset by what you have to say. Have some tea, some biscuits." Harry motioned to the pot.

"Er- Yeah, thanks." Goodfried said as he set to preparing himself a cup of tea. "Well… the thing is… After last night's… events… Well, I don't know if you're familiar with Rita Skeeter and her work…"

Harry gripped his tea cup a little bit more. "I am aware of her less than… factual work." He said.

"Right, well she got started on an article right away about the events, and I had a brief glimpse of it. It wasn't pretty, putting it bluntly." Goodfried managed. "I managed to get the Editor to hold off printing it in the Evening edition of the _Prophet_ but only on the condition that I manage to get something more… More. He'll print it for tomorrow morning unless I have something better. So I thought what better than coming to get the story from the Horse's mouth."

Harry nodded slowly. "Very well Mister Goodfried, you have your interview. Under a few conditions. First, I hold the right to not answer any question you might ask. Second, you will not embellish my words, or write them out of context. If you do well enough, you will be my go to reporter in the future." Harry said.

Good press was good for politics and business. If this man did well enough, Harry would go to him regarding other things in the future.

Goodfried inhaled and nodded. He set the black quill to the parchment and reactivated the enchantment. "You… wouldn't happen to have coffee, would you?' He asked a little sheepishly. "It helps calm my nerves."

Harry was amused by the simple request. "Millie." Pop. "Some coffee for Mister Goodfried please." Another pop answered Harry's request.

"This is Stanley Goodfried, reporter for the _Daily Prophet_ sitting with Harry Potter, the Scion of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Black and Potter." Goodfried dictated to the quill and it wrote it word for word. "It is the twenty seventh of December, Nineteen ninety-two. For those who are unaware, Mister Potter had a duel with Lucius Malfoy last night that Mister Malfoy lost and ultimately died in. Mister Potter, many people can attest to what occurred last night, but can you tell me more about _why_ this duel occurred?"

"Certainly." Harry said, watching the quill write his words down. "Though it may seem like a case of my word against that of Lucius Malfoy's, words he can no longer defend himself against. I'm unaware of how much what has occurred at Hogwarts this year has been heard, but I will tell that story as well since it relates to the why the duel occurred.

"These past few months, since Halloween, there have been a rash of petrifications on the school's Non-Magically born students. The Chamber of Secrets was opened, and its protector was forced to attack the students. The Chamber was Salazar Slytherin's addition to the security of the school, and it housed a basilisk by the name of Balthazar. No student looked directly into its gaze, so they were only petrified.

"When I figured out where the Chamber was, and what was in it, I descended into it to save the life of a friend, Susan Bones Heiress to the Ancient and Noble House of Bones and niece to Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Inside the Chamber, I found what caused Balathazar to awaken and attack the students. A shade, summoned by a Horcrux. A Horcrux of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort."

Goodfried didn't react to the name like Harry expected, thus proving his theory on the man being a foreigner. "I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the term Horcrux Mister Potter. How is it link to You-Know-Who?"

"A Horcrux is a vile piece of magic that even some of the morally questionable families would balk at. I don't know the spells required to make one, but I do know what it is. A Horcrux is a Soul Anchor. In theory it could be used to make you immortal, but it means ripping a piece of your soul off and placing it in something. And to fragment your soul like that, you must commit a cold blooded murder. The Goblins of Gringotts have been most helpful to me with information and the purging of these vile creations. If the Shade of Riddle is to be believed, which I have no reason not to believe him, he envisioned seven. Now whether that is six Horcruxes plus his own body, or seven Horcruxes, plus his own body, I'm uncertain. I've seen to the destruction of five of these vile things, and I will see to the destruction of the rest, if they exist.

"This Horcrux was a journal, or a diary, that Riddle likely used while he was a student. It ended up in the hands of a student at Hogwarts. For their protection, I won't say who. Long story short, I slew an ancient basilisk, saved another student, and destroyed a Horcrux. I believed that Lucius Malfoy had planted the Horcrux on the student, and accused him of such."

"That's one Hell of a story Mister Potter, and a hefty accusation." Goodfried said, looking over the scroll that was getting all the information.

Harry waved his hand. "I've already contacted Gringotts as well as the International Committee for Hunting and Game about harvesting the Basilisk. It's still in the Chamber inside Hogwarts. The Goblins of Gringotts can confirm the destruction of four of the Horcruxes." Harry said politely.

"But you had no proof about Lucius Malfoy's involvement?" Goodfried asked.

"No." Harry said simply. "As I said, I made the accusation, but could not take it anywhere, or else I would have."

"Some might consider you instigating Mister Malfoy with such an accusation." Goodfried said politely.

"True, and perhaps to some extent I can see that. But does that necessarily qualify the start of a Killing Curse? Had it not been for a present House Elf, Mister Malfoy would have attempted to kill me in that Hallway, and I would have retaliated with a Blasting Hex to his chest."

"So you claim that Mister Malfoy was beginning to cast a Killing Curse upon you?"

"Yes." Harry said simply. "Then a House Elf laid him flat on his back."

"Well, a Killing Curse attempt on someone of your stature does constitute for a Class Two Wizard's Duel," Goodfried said checking over his notes. "So with the background established, can we get into what happened last night?"

"Of course." Harry said.

Just then Millie popped in with a steaming pot of coffee. Goodfried poured himself a cup and added some sugar before drinking it black. "You could have had a Champion for your Cause Mister Potter, someone older, more experienced than you are at Dueling."

"Of which I had a few offers and queries of who was going to be my Champion. In the end, I decided I would duel Mister Malfoy. I played upon his arrogance and pride. Had I selected a Champion, no doubt he would have drummed up some nicely hidden rule, some obscure loophole that would allow him a Champion in the Duel as well. That's not what I wanted. I wanted to expose Mister Malfoy for what he was. I wanted to humble him and show him despair."

Goodfried nodded and took another drink of his coffee. "Were you afraid going into the Duel?"

"No. I wasn't. I was calm at first. But then Lucius Malfoy used a disarming spell upon me."

"One that hit square, if memory serves." Goodfried pointed out.

"I could have avoided it if I wanted to, I could have blocked it, deflected it, so many things. But I took it on and then put Mister Malfoy flat on his back so that he might take me seriously. He did not." Harry allowed his disappointment show through.

"Some would argue towards the end that he did take you seriously."

Harry shook his head. "It still angers me. I cannot fathom why he garnered such power and fear over people. He was a puppet without its puppet master. Yes, towards the end he used some potentially lethal spells, but he showed no flair, no creativity, nothing that marked him as… powerful, as a threat."

"You called him a piece of Cattle several times during the Duel, Mister Potter, can I ask what that was about?"

Harry drank some of his tea, deciding how much he wanted to say. "Every witch and wizard is… attuned to a particular branch of magic. If they train it, they can feel its presence nearby. I can feel Riddle's mark upon his followers, even though it has faded after all these long years. To have such a mark is a disgusting and loathsome thing. Perhaps it is why I lost myself a little bit. I'm usually far more creative."

"Did you expect Mister Malfoy to throw out a Killing Curse during the events of the Duel?" Goodfried asked.

"No, I didn't. I was honestly a little surprised by it."

"Can you tell the readers anything about how you survived the Killing Curse not once more, but twice more in the span of a few moments?"

"No." Harry's words were succinct. He wasn't about to reveal that he knew how he survived. Let people assume that he didn't know.

"From your perspective, could you tell me about what happened at the end?"

Harry closed his eyes a moment. "I saw the flash of green and stood there. It hit me dead in the chest, splashing harmlessly around me. I was shocked, not that he would use it, but that he did. Such a… childish and simple spell. There's no creativity to the Killing Curse, just a simple rending of the soul from the body. I even asked him about it. Twice more, he cast it at me, twice more it splashed harmlessly."

Harry paused. "The Aurors reacted, but the Wards wouldn't have allowed their spells in. They're trained to disarm first. They had to bring the wards down. Lucius turned to someone in the crowd, the stands. I don't know who. The second I saw his wand turning to the people, mine was coming up. I heard the words and just reacted with my fastest spell. The Wards wouldn't have stopped his Killing Curse, I just… reacted."

Goodfried checked on the quill, making sure it was getting everything. "What exactly did you cast at Lucius, Mister Potter?"

"An Ice Spell that calls upon the Highest Entity of Ice, The Queen of Eternity. The Full Incantation to fully power the spell is several verses long."

"You didn't believe such a spell to be excessive?" Goodfried asked before taking another drink of his coffee, emptying the cup and starting to pour himself another one.

Harry took a drink of his own tea. He knew Goodfried was attempting to cover all bases, to get inside Harry's head and understand what was going on. "I didn't go into the Duel with Lucius Malfoy with the intent to kill him." Harry said slowly and carefully. "I will admit, I wanted to break him, and make him realize the folly of his actions."

Harry took a moment to prepare a second cup of tea for himself. "By the time Lucius started to aim for the spectators, instinct drove me forward and I reacted. A Stunner would have been too slow, blasting hex would have still left him sending out the Killing Curse. The incantation for the Killing Curse does not flow off the tongue very well, but the time required to incant it was enough for me to let loose the Absolute End spell in its barest form. It would be fast enough to interrupt his casting.

"Am I sorry that Lucius Malfoy is dead? No. Do I regret my actions last night? No. Do I take pleasure in his death? No. The only thing I regret is the situation that led up to that point. So many things could have been done differently. I'll admit, I'm more stubborn than the next man, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have done things differently for the situation leading up to that point.

"My point in all of this, Mister Goodfried, is that Lucius Malfoy reaped what he sowed. What the people of this nation have allowed him to sow. Bigotry, racism, prejudice, fear, anger. I won't feel sorry for killing him, not when he tried to kill me and then an innocent in the crowd of people. But I also took no pleasure in doing it. In fact, for the act itself, I simply feel nothing." Harry said.

"I think we'll cut it off there, Mister Potter." Goodfried said and tapped the quill with his wand to make it stop writing. "Thank you for such an enlightening interview Mister Potter. So few people seem to have an inkling about what has happened with you, and even you must admit you are something of a celebrity. I wasn't sure if I'd get the interview."

"Of course." Harry said simply. He didn't know what sort of light the interview would paint him, but he hoped people would start seeing him as a human being. He wasn't a paragon of good, but he wasn't some renegade of evil either. He was a human being, prone to human emotions and feelings and mistakes.

Even if he was a Rider of the Apocalypse.

"Might I ask a question of you Mister Goodfried?" Harry asked.

"I think that might be fair." Goodfried said politely.

"Why is it you don't flinch when I say Voldemort's name? I've seen Non-Magically born students and adults all flinch, or stutter over the name whenever it's mentioned."

Goodfried shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not from Britain and wasn't here during his attacks. I moved here shortly after to be with my wife before we got married. So, the name is just that. A name. And not a very creative one if you ask me. 'Flight from Death'?" Goodfried shook his head and stood up.

Harry rose and shook the reporter's hand. "I wish you luck with your article."

"Thank you, but I must be off to check the facts with Gringotts, the International Hunting and Game committee, and so many other sources." Goodfried said before heading off to use the Floo.

Harry waited until the man was gone before he went upstairs. No doubt the interview would put the fox among the chickens, and Harry was curious to see what might happen.

Of course, politics was a long game after all.

-_**Scene Break-**_

It was the day the story broke, deep in the heart of London, just beneath the hustle and bustle of the major city. Beneath the pavements with cars zipping back and forth and pedestrians walking about, unknown and unseen to even those initiated into the unknown and unseen. Deep in the tunnels, the sewers, a fat brown rat with a pinky missing on its left hand scurried over the stone.

It worked its way into a crack within the walls, squeezing its mass and bulk through into a chamber that was far larger than the simple crack should have held.

That rat then turned into a portly man with balding hair and ragged clothes. He took to sitting in a plush arm chair, one that he sank into and enjoyed the comforts.

Peter Pettigrew was safe in his little hidey hole. No witch or wizard would ever think to look for him the sewers of London, and with a Muggle Repelling Charm, he kept the Muggles away from his little hole.

From inside the coat he wore he drew out a package of doughnuts. He inhaled the scent of them a moment before he opened it up, giddy for the pastry. It had been so easy to get ahold of his breakfast, so simple.

Just walk into a store, order, and pay.

After all, Peter Pettigrew wasn't a wanted man in Muggle London.

He took a glazed doughnut out and bit into it, giving a soft moan at the glaze and sweetness of the treat. It easily beat a cauldron cake in deliciousness.

He looked around his little hidey hole. It was far more luxurious than any Muggle criminal on the run would ever have. He had a bed, a wireless, a fire place, a stove, fresh water that was always clean. He had enough creature comforts that the fact he was in a sewer didn't even come to mind. He even had a nice little shower set up to the corner.

While not the most gifted of the Marauders, he had still been such and that meant needing to be intelligent enough to not get caught. Sirius had his Runes, Remus had his Defense Against the Dark Arts, James had his Transfiguration, Pettigrew had his Charms.

After all, he had an 'O' in the NEWT level of the class. He didn't know why he hadn't done this in the first place, it was so much better than sticking as a rat for years on end.

And so simple as well.

Lily, rest her soul, had taken all four of the men and beat it into their skulls on how to at least blend as a Muggle, even if it was an eccentric one. Peter could recognize any monetary note in Britain, he knew enough about mathematics in order to know how much he had left as well. He didn't need anyone holding his hand.

It was a shame Peter's Master had killed Lily, but she had stood in the way rather than stepping aside. Peter had even tried to get Lily to leave, to have a breather from watching over Harry.

It was easy for Peter to get money as well. Break into some poor soul's house as a rat and find any loose money. He didn't bother with jewels, electronics, or anything of that sort. He took pure cash so that when he needed to spend it, he could.

He was a Wizard after all. He could simply get by listening to Quidditch on the Wireless, reading, or sleeping. He led a nice little life of luxury.

He set the doughnuts to the side and took out the copy of the Daily Prophet he snagged. Stealing the papers was trickier, but doable so long as he stayed as a rat and kept his human presence to a minimum and in Knockturn Alley.

Sirius was much too lily-white like James to venture down there. Remus might, but last Peter knew, Remus was teaching at Hogwarts and wouldn't have a need to head down into the shadier shopping district.

There, front page, were words that made Peter's blood freeze. '_**THE DEATH OF LUCIUS MALFOY AND THE EXPOSURE OF TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE! HARRY POTTER TELLS ALL'**_

Peter read the article quickly. He had been the fastest reader of the group of Marauders and was capable of reading upwards of eight hundred pages a day if he had the time. He had read entire tomes during his time at Hogwarts in the time it took James or Sirius to read one.

He felt his blood go cold as he saw the extent of what his Master went through. But to Peter, it just meant that he was following the right man. His Master had done was no one else had before him, pushing the limits of the Dark Arts and delving deeper and deeper.

But Potter had destroyed most of them. Could his Master have perished? Peter shuddered at the thought. He stood up and tossed the newspaper away, pacing as he thought on the matter. His Master had planned seven Horcruxes and Harry confirmed the destruction of five.

Peter needed help. He could go searching for his Master on his own, but he would need his Master's Wand to do that, a wand that was locked up in the Ministry of Magic.

Lucius was dead, and that meant the prime candidate was no longer available.

The only other person that could help Peter…

He grimaced.

Peter was going to Azkaban.

He needed to break him out.

-**END CHAPTER-**

**A/N: I'm going to try and finish out the rest of Book 2, another 8-12 chapters or so, at a consistent rate. I want to try and have them finished by the time the two year anniversary of working on this story rolls around.**

**Adios.**


	48. Book 2: Chapter 21

_Last Time: Harry reveals that he feels nothing over Lucius' death. Not remorse, nor pleasure, but nothing at all. He gives an interview with a Daily Prophet reporter, sparing no detail. Peter Pettigrew sees the interview and begins making plans to break into Azkaban Prison to break someone out._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 21

All over Magical Britain, hundreds of newspapers were sent out to be delivered. By Nine A.M. almost everyone that subscribed to the _Daily Prophet_ had read the front page article, written by one Stanley Goodfried. By Ten A.M., people were already talking and whispering, at least one of the newspapers huddled in their group.

And all over Magical Britain, people either vilified or defended Harry James Potter.

A mild mannered barkeep by the name of Tom re-read his copy of the article while he wiped at his bar with a clean rag. He glanced up to the crowd that had gathered and split into several groups. Already he could hear the whispers.

"Can we trust him?"

"Is he going Dark?"

"Who's going to protect us from Potter?"

"I'll stand behind his banner."

"About time someone stood up and did something."

Now Tom believed himself to be a good man, a good man with thick skin. He had heard every sob story from all sorts of drunks, begging for booze to make the pain go away. He had to develop thick skin. But he also had heard all sorts of sob stories from people just asking for anything, a glass of water to help them on their way, a piece of bread. It was these sorts of people that Tom tried to help.

Even if some of the beggars were lying, they weren't begging for booze or money and that meant something to Tom.

And as a good man, he folded his copy of the _Prophet_ up and looked up. "All of you folks should be ashamed of yourselves." He said loud and clearly. He spoke a little slower, making sure his words were able to get through the minds of the fools already drinking. "And if any of you bad mouth that young Lad again, you can go find another damned inn that will sell you drinks before noon. That Lad hasn't done anythin' wrong as far as I'm concerned."

He was angry. They were talking about Harry Potter like he was some sort of Dark Lord or a deity to be followed.

"I have seen a lot of people come and go through my inn." Tom angrily wiped at the bar counter. "Been at this job a long, long time. Survived through Grindelwald, survived through the Muggle Blitz just outside my doors, survived when You-Know-Who… No… V-V…Volde- Voldemort!" He roared the name out in anger. He heard a lot of gasps and shrieks. 'Voldemort!" He spat again. "I survived Voldemort."

Tom looked over the people who were staring at him. Not a single gaze looked elsewhere. "I remember a boy by the name of Tom Riddle comin' through that door." He pointed at the door to Muggle London. "A silver tongued devil, he thought he could fool me with flatterin' words but his eyes… cold as ice. So full of rage and hate, I remember that boy before he became the monster that was Voldemort." Again shrieks and gasps. "I'm tired of livin' in fear, tired of bein' looked down on cause my mum was a Muggle. I'm damned proud of Mum. She ain't never said a bad thin' about anyone, and she died of old age with a smile on her face in the bed she shared with my Pa for damned near sixty years.

"I watched James Potter spill out of that Fireplace, covered in ash and soot." Tom pointed at the fire place where a low flame flickered. "All excited and rambunctious, you'd have thought someone told that boy he was gonna be learnin' from Merlin himself. And I watched as his Pa came strollin' out, a smile on his face at the innocence that James had.

"I watched Lily Evans come through that door, nippin' at the robes of Minerva," He pointed at the door again. "Meek and shy as can be, that Lass was a pure and good soul. I remember sittin' three hours later with her, talkin' about things like etiquette and tradition. She wasn't some Muggleborn lookin' to come in and change thin's cause she didn't like em. She was lookin' to learn, and learn she would so she could fix thin's cause they needed fixed not some misplaced sense of justice."

Tom took a moment to lick his lips. "And you know what? I loved every time both those kids and more came through my Inn to go to the Alley. Pure, innocent, that didn't know what war was like. They didn't know what it was to live in fear. I had hope for the future, hope things would change for the better. Already there had been whispers and murmurs about Voldemort. You hear a lot as a bartender, and I hear more than most."

Tom squared up his shoulders, looking over the crowd that hung to his every word. "And then, just last year, I saw that young Lad you people are vilifyin' walk through that door where so many had come before him. He didn't say much, and he held himself with all the dignity and pride you'd expect someone of his stature to hold himself to. He holds himself to a higher standard than the rest of us do. But what he did say spoke to me, what he did say cut me to my soul. We failed, as a whole, with that Lad. It's not my place to say what happened to that Lad, and I'll be damned before I do say what happened. I doubt he even knows I figured out what he was talkin' about.

"And like his mum before him, Harry came to me about etiquette and tradition so that he wouldn't be insultin' anyone while he looked to fix our world. Politics and business are a Potter's bread and butter, and damned if that young Lad ain't thrivin'. Malfoy thought he could intimidate and threaten that young Lad, no that young man? The he deserved what he got. If Harry don't feel nothin' about it, that's not our problem. But don't any of you go vilifyin' that young man for what he did, for defendin' the audience from the likes of a mad man.

"I spoke of bein' tired of livin' in fear, tired of bein' looked down on, of seein' hope at the younger generation comin' through my Inn. It shames me, seein' that young man comin' through. A burden as heavy as any on his shoulders. It shames me seein' other war orphans comin' through, a flicker of somethin' older than they deserve in their eyes. It shames me knowin' that our society has failed as a whole.

"And if Voldemort does come back, with a mass of followers again?" Tom tapped the folded newspaper. "I say let him come. I didn't get no NEWTS, but damned if I don't know a few spells to throw at him and his followers. I ain't livin' in fear no more."

With his piece said, Tom went back to wiping down the bar top.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Albus Dumbledore entered his office and quickly locked the door. As soon as he started to see the contents of the article, he had excused himself from breakfast and made his way to his office so that he could better read it and think upon what the contents were.

As much as he loved the students, he knew they could be quite loud, even when there was a strong majority missing from them for the Winter Holidays.

And so, he took the time to read the article properly. He couldn't believe how… frank Harry had been with the reporter. He was thankful to see that Harry had kept Ms. Bones' involvement in opening the Chamber a secret.

He frowned a bit more as he saw the words regarding Voldemort's Horcruxes. Harry had destroyed five of the things. Then that meant there were anywhere from no more to three more. Dumbledore bit his lower lip thinking a moment on what he knew.

He was not one hundred percent certain if Harry was a Horcrux or not. With Harry possibly being Death, there was a chance that the Horcrux was already destroyed. Dumbledore just honestly didn't have enough information, and he doubted Harry would let him scan the scar upon his forehead.

He might let Madam Pomfrey, but then Dumbledore would need to explain things to her, something he desperately wanted to avoid. She'd be likely to flay him alive. And the thought process of hoping the Wards around Privet Drive would purge the Soul Fragment would not be enough to save him from her wrath.

Then there was the thought that Voldemort had planned on using Harry's death to make his final Horcrux, which would then mean, if Harry was a Horcrux, that Voldemort didn't have any more, other than Harry and his own Soul fragment. But if Voldemort had already made his final Horcrux, then they would need to find that and destroy it before they could defeat Voldemort once and for all.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh. How he missed the days of being a simple Professor. Even as a Headmaster he hadn't just gotten to be a Headmaster. But, the burden was placed on his shoulders and he would carry it as far as his body could take it before he needed to pass it down to another.

He just hoped he could carry it to the end.

And if Voldemort did have another Horcrux, then he would likely send it into hiding with the worst sort of curses and traps that the deranged mind could come up with. At least once he had a body or a follower to carry out his will.

It meant now more than ever they were on a time clock and Dumbledore needed to figure out what the last Horcrux could have been.

He doubted that Voldemort would make another one once he got his body back, not so casually after the others were rather publically announced to be destroyed. Perhaps he could ask the Goblins of Gringotts if they could help him with determining if there was a Horcrux in Harry's scar.

Doubtful, but it might be worth a shot.

He used his hand to stroke his beard, thinking more and more about the precarious predicament that the past few days had put him into. His rather… controlling… nature was showing through. He found that no longer being the Chief Warlock or the Supreme Mugwump had him at a serious disadvantage when it came to information. True, he had quite willingly stepped down, but he never realized just how much information both posts had given him.

Even still, he was determined to not need the information either post gave him.

Dumbledore knew he would at least speak with Harry, and try to see if he couldn't get Harry to see just how wrong it was to have killed Lucius. Dumbledore never got along with the man, nor did he believe for an instant that the other man was innocent of anything, but that didn't mean he deserved to be cut down like that.

Surely there was another spell that was just as fast or faster that would have kept Lucius from casting the lethal spell. And Dumbledore was sure that there was one that would have been non-lethal.

He wanted Harry to regret the killing. He needed Harry to regret the killing. If the Prophecy regarding Harry was true, and Dumbledore had no reason to believe it wasn't, then Harry would need a power that 'He knows not' and Dumbledore firmly believed it to be Love. Harry needed to be capable of compassion in order to begin to feel Love.

Dumbledore hoped that Harry wasn't as emotionally deadened as he feared him to be. Not that Dumbledore could blame him if he was, he was well aware of what sort of Hell he had subjected Harry to now.

Dumbledore stroked his beard as he looked over the article a bit more. Perhaps he should also talk to Harry about so casually saying things in an interview, or accepting such an interview? He then decided against it. Not only would Harry become suspicious, but Harry would have to learn the ins and outs of politics on his own. Though, if Dumbledore was willing to admit, Harry was quite adept at it already, if a bit brash and blunt about it.

Harry would be a force to be recognized in the political realm if he kept it up.

Dumbledore sighed a moment. He felt so alienated from Harry and he didn't even know where to begin to make up ground. If Harry was Death, the only time Harry seemed to actually speak with Dumbledore was when he was in full regalia. It was funny, the only time Harry didn't seem to have a mask was when he had a mask on.

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair, thinking of Death's offer with Arianna. He had brought it up with Aberforth, and he still hadn't gotten a response back. But time was slowly running out, and they would need to have an answer before the first of the New Year.

So many things to think about and not enough information or answers.

He thrummed his fingers on his desk. He thought of the bond between Harry and Flitwick and wondered what it was that allowed them to have such. He glanced around his office, grand and full of so many scholarly things. It was his comfort zone.

Perhaps that was it. Every time he had tried to speak with Harry, it had been in a confrontation of Dumbledore's making. He followed him to the Mirror, followed him down to the main Ward Stone.

Perhaps… just perhaps… Dumbledore thought of it. Perhaps he should go to Harry's comfort zone, where Harry had power and knew what things were.

He needed to know just how bad things were, and he needed to know just how to begin to get in Harry's good graces.

No doubt talking about the need to feel compassion would put a damper on that, but Dumbledore still felt like it was his responsibility to try.

He sighed a moment and gathered his ink and quill to write,

-_**Scene Break-**_

Harry's lungs burned in agony, and his muscles ached. His body fought to recover from the beating he had taken. Brutal, fast, without mercy, he had been laid out on his back with his wand spinning away from him a dozen times already. He had passed out twice, and viciously awoken.

No matter how he dodged, no matter how he moved… he just couldn't move fast enough.

The source of Harry's agony?

The angry, diminutive form of one Filius Flitwick, pacing in Harry's practice room within his manor.

Harry didn't know what came over his Professor. But the man had been unrelentingly brutal. Spell after spell, chain after chain. Harry didn't have the time to think, only react, and even then it wasn't enough.

He rasped out for air and rolled himself onto his hands and knees. He grabbed his wand and dragged it over to him. Sweat dripped down onto the hard floors and he rolled his eyes up to look at Flitwick. Not even a fold or crease of cloth out of place, Flitwick looked every bit the Master Duelist, complete with a pair of dragon hide gloves.

Harry looked to the angry bronze colored eyes. The second Harry begun to rise, he'd be assaulted by his professor and dueling trainer. Viciously and brutally, just like the last twelve times. Why? Why was Flitwick so angry? Harry didn't understand, and Flitwick wasn't giving him time to think.

Nor was he giving any hints. He had barely spoken a word since his arrival at Potter Manor.

Harry's body begged him to stay down, to admit defeat. But he couldn't. Not until he understood what this was about. His magic swirled. His reserves had barely dipped, but with the pain he was in he couldn't concentrate enough for any wandless magic.

Dust had attempted to help, but Flitwick had put the bird in a cage and charmed it to actually zap his familiar whenever Dust tried to get free.

Harry growled and forced his booted foot flat on the ground. He pushed himself up shakily. He stumbled back a little, breathing heavily. He raised his wand.

But Flitwick was already going through a chain.

Harry was hit with spells he couldn't recognize. Some he could recognize based on being hit by them, but most of them he had no idea. Flitwick finished with a lightning spell that blasted Harry back. He couldn't stop the muscle spasms from ripping through his body but he forced himself to remain standing, gritting his teeth as he did so.

Flitwick said something in the Goblin Tongue, that while Harry understood it, he didn't _understand_ it. The Shadow Cowl could only make him hear the words, not understand their meanings. "Boom, boom, little spark, set fire to the mountain!" Flitwick's Goblin spell blasted Harry off his feet.

He coughed for air, wheezing. He could feel the heat of the impact still and his wand was out of his hand. His body smoked and gave little spasms. He rolled over and coughed up vomit, but ended up falling face first into it. He slapped his hand forward and dragged himself forward. His vision was blurry and he tried to force himself up.

He fell, his chin bouncing off the hard floor.

Booted feet moved forward, and Harry looked up at the angry visage of Flitwick. "When you have realized my ire, Mister Potter, I will expect a six foot essay from you about your folly. Good day." Flitwick began to walk out, and the adrenaline stopped surging to Harry's body.

He blacked out.

Harry didn't know when he awoke, or if he woke, but the next time he could see, he looked to the brown leather boots in front of him. His gaze slowly panned up to see the form of Adrian Potter, standing there with a slight look of disappointment on his face.

"You screwed up Harry." Adrian said, crossing his arms across his chest, despite the armor on his chest.

"You're dead." Harry said slowly.

Adrian's boot came out and rolled Harry onto his back. "Yeah, didn't stop you from bringing me back, did it?"

"What do you want Adrian?" Harry rasped out. He still hurt from the duel.

"Your teacher's a good man, and you've learned a lot from him. But you still screwed up big time, didn't you kid? Worse, you don't even know how you screwed up. Can't fix it if you don't know how you screwed up."

"Why are you here Adrian? Must you keep haunting my memories of when I failed one of my own family members?" Harry asked.

"Am I here? Or am I manifestation of the guilt you have because I died again? Or it something else?"

"Enough of the games Adrian!" Harry managed out. "You keep saying I screwed up, but you won't say how!"

Adrian said nothing for a while before he looked around. "Think about what your teacher did Harry. Thirteen times over, think about what he just did to you, and then compare it to your duel just the other day. You're a smart kid, you can figure it out."

Harry didn't know how any of that was related. But Harry stopped and tried, tried to think and understand what Adrian was talking about. Harry's head pounded and the aches in his body were distracting.

"What did that monster we fought do?" Adrian prompted. "What did it do against us instead of just outright killing you? Even you know that it could have done so in a heartbeat. Apply that to your duel the other day, apply it to what your teacher just did."

Harry remembered that day clearly. Dream or not, he would never forget the day he battled against the force that was Mephistopheles. It was the first time he had been outclassed in every which way possible, but still managed to drag out a victory.

Even he knew he won based on luck.

And months later, he was still no closer to figuring out how he had won. Soul Magic was near impossible to study, most records of ancient Soul Magic being destroyed. The closest to Soul Magic was an Unbreakable Oath.

"It toyed with me." Harry said slowly.

It was so self-assured of victory that it toyed with Harry long enough that they could weaken it and in the end kill it.

"And you toyed with Lucius Malfoy like a cat does a mouse. So self-confident, so sure of your own abilities to be able to handle anything he could throw your way, that you toyed with him. At any time, you could have destroyed him and beat him down so badly that his reputation would have never recovered." Adrian said.

Harry stayed laying on his back. Adrian was right. He was no better than the force that was Mephistopheles. Harry had gotten cocky, arrogant. It was… truthfully… his fault that Lucius was dead. He pushed the man to that brink of madness, and then pulled the trigger. By what right did he claim the duty of Judge, Jury, and Executioner? And he dared to call himself Death, The Pale Rider of the Apocalypse?

No… He was just an arrogant child given vast cosmic powers.

His body gave a spasm as he remembered the way Flitwick had handled him. It was like taking a beating in fast forward. Harry didn't have time to think or react, or anything. The second he recognized a spell, he was being hit by another. Flitwick had been brutal and efficient.

Each of the thirteen times Harry had been laid out, he could have been considered beaten.

But against Lucius, Harry kept letting the man get up, get up and try again against the wall that he, Harry Potter, posed.

Adrian Potter squatted next to Harry and Harry was forced to look up at the man. A squire, not even a knight, was what it took to make Harry realize that he had not been in the right when he destroyed Lucius like that.

"You spat on everything your teacher has taught you. And while you haven't had another Potter to look to, you spat on what our family believes in." Adrian's words cut Harry to the soul. "You, Harry, should have held yourself to a higher standard than simply toying with Lucius Malfoy. And then you have the gall to claim you felt nothing, nothing in his death."

Adrian stood up. "You've been looking at the Abyss too long Harry." He turned and began to walk away.

Harry's eyes snapped open and the ache in his chest returned twice fold. Had it been a dream? Had it all been in his head? He grit his teeth and forced himself to sit up, wincing as he did so. Everything felt like it was on the verge of breaking.

He looked down at his hands. He was responsible for Lucius' death, for better or for worse. He unleashed the spell, regardless of the intention.

Harry rolled onto his hands and knees. "Damn it!" He shouted, swearing loudly. He never swore, he always felt like it showed a lack of intelligence. There were better words than that.

He punched the hard flooring. Pain lanced up Harry's arm. He punched again. "Damn it!" He roared out, pounding his knuckles into the hard flooring. He had toyed with the man, he was the reason that Lucius was dead. He pushed Lucius that far.

Slime the man may have been, but he had still been alive! A life that was now snuffed out and shuffled off to the after life because of Harry! He kept punching the ground. "DAMN IT!" Tears streamed down his face.

He put innocents at risk because of his own ego! What gave him the right to decide who lived and who died like that?!

He punched one last time, his fist glowing with sickly green energy as his magic build. He cracked the ground and there was a sharp crack from his hand. But Harry didn't notice. Tears dripped from his face down onto the ground, he spat on Flitwick's teachings. The man had never said anything about finishing a battle as quickly as possible, but it didn't matter. Harry had spat on the man's teachings.

He spat on his family's legacy.

Something in Harry seemed to wane and break, like a dam bursting open. A flood of emotions surged through Harry, emotions he didn't know how to handle. Monster, failure, unloved, unwanted, he destroyed everything he touched. It was a cascade of darker thoughts, thoughts Harry had unknowingly suppressed.

He roared out and unleashed his magic in a wave. The floor cracked under him, the walls cracked and plaster crumbled from them. Training instruments shattered and broke and even the lights above him cracked.

And for the first time in a very long, long time…. Harry cried.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Towards the upper part of the North Sea stood a fortress built impossibly upon an island. Hail lanced at the fortress, chunks of ice bouncing off the stone. It was close to the Arctic for a reason, deterring would be escapees. This was Azkaban, plummeted in the cold and the wet, it was a prison for the most horrible of Magical Britain's citizens.

No one, officially, had escaped from Azkaban. Most inmates went mad within a week of being there. The cold, the despair, the exposure to the elements. Many died there, unable to combat the harshness of the prison.

Originally, the creature denizens of the island, the Dementors, had been the only Prison Guards of the entire island. They were cheaper. They didn't need paid after all. And they weakened the prisoners, sucking the happiness from them. They flocked in droves, with over three scores of Dementors calling the prison home.

Over the years though, various Ministers had thought to include human guards until they were eventually put in place. Between their wand and creature comforts such as coats and warm beds, the guards had it infinitely more bearable than the inmates. Bearable, but not liked. Each guard was expected to know how to perform a Patronus, with the head guard of each shift needing to know how to perform a Corporeal Patronus. Chocolate was to be had on every guard at all times to combat the numbingly cold effects of the Dementors.

It was a harsh beat to walk for any Auror, regardless of the hazard pay given.

This prison was not like those in the Muggle World. Inmates weren't given three hot meals and a cot. Even the worst sort of prisons in the Muggle World were better than the cold, lifeless Hell that was Azkaban. The inmates were given seven jumpsuits to last their entire stay at Azkaban, a thread bare blanket was also given, but confiscated in the summer months. Enough to keep the prisoners from outright dying, but not enough to give them any sort of comfort. Meals consisted of a third of a loaf of bread, some cold broth, and a canteen of water. Again, enough to keep the prisoners alive but only so.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

It was only by reminding himself of facts about Azkaban that kept him sane. It was only by remembering his loyalty to the Master that kept him sane. It was only the constant work out he did that kept him sane.

The male form with ragged black hair covering his face went through the push-ups, grunting as he did. He pushed off the cold stone floor with every upward movement, bringing his hands together into a clap before placing them flat on the stone once more. He was lean with chorded muscles.

It was the only way he could find to pass the time during his life sentence. Or at least until his Master came to free all off them.

He heard an insane cackle and pause. "Ickle Warden come to see us degenerates?!" A raspy female voice called out.

The man shook his head. Bellatrix had fallen off the sane wagon a very long time ago. He pushed himself up to his feet and jumped up, grabbing the bars above his head. He grunted as he began to pull himself up, over and over. Despite the blistering cold of the metal, he kept working out. He had to keep his body warm.

After all Dolohov had lost his right toes because of frost bite.

Sure enough, the Warden passed by his cell and he dropped down, looking out at the man and the three Aurors that walked with him. All bundled up in their coats, they looked quite warm. He sure wished he had one of those coats from time to time.

Sharp yellow eyes caught the headline of the _Daily Prophet _tucked under the Warden's arm and he followed the Warden's steps as he checked on the prisoners, seeing who was alive and who wasn't.

He went to the front of his cell and grabbed the bars, looking out. "Oi, Warden!" He shouted before the man could leave. "That the latest copy of the _Prophet _in your arms?"

"What's it to you?" The Warden asked.

He stuck his arm out through the cell, holding his hand open. "You wouldn't mind lending it to me to read, would you?"

The warden of Azkaban slowly walked back and looked into his cell, yellow eyes meeting brown.

"Go ahead, knock yourself out." The Warden slapped the newspaper into his outstretched hand and he slowly drew it back into the cage.

He knew he only got it because he acted as a model prisoner, never acting out, never shouting, never begging or pleading. Other inmates would have had their arm broken against the bars. He knew what he did, he was as guilty of it as Bellatrix was of torturing the Longbottoms to insanity.

He took the newspaper and moved back to the pile of straw the inmates got as their bedding. He laid down on it, even though he knew it would do nothing against the cold or the hardness of the stone. He snapped the newspaper open and began to read.

"Ol' Lucy bit the dust then huh?" He said amused as he began to read the interview that Potter had given.

"So that's how the Master had done it…" He said pleased. Horcruxes… he was always curious as to how the Master survived. Of course, many had written the Master off as dead, but he had seen the first signs of his Master's survival those long years ago.

Had he not been caught, his Master would have risen back a long, long time ago.

"Well, it's just a matter of time." And that was all he had in the world. Time.

-**CHAPTER END-**

**A/N: No, the prisoner at the end is not, I repeat, NOT an OC. He is an actual character from Harry Potter, an actual servant of Voldemort that I have decided I'm going to take some artistic creativity with.**

**But thus, the dominos begin to fall. **


	49. Book 2: Chapter 22

_Last Time: Harry finally feels something after killing Lucius Malfoy and something snaps inside of him. Could it affect his status as the Pale Rider?_

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 22

Harry stared at the letter in his hand. Even though it was just an hour before the time of the meeting, he still had barely gotten ready. What would he say? What would he do? His mind still reeled from his fit. He still had such dark whispers in the back of his mind. Had he failed his legacy? Had he failed Professor Flitwick?

Had he failed as the Pale Rider?

Dust had been awfully quiet on the subject.

He sighed softly and stood up. He went to the bathroom to shower. Regardless of everything else, he knew that she wouldn't tolerate him not showing up. Not after the events of the Ministry Ball. As he stood with the hot water beating down upon him, he felt sickened to his stomach. His analytical mind failed him, how did he cope with such emotions? He was not used to such things.

He should blow the whole meeting off. He needed a better handle on the emotions rolling through him, but if anyone deserved the chance to do something to him, it would be her.

Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry finished his shower and took a moment to dress a bit smartly. A pair of slacks and a collar polo shirt were not acceptable clothes when seeing Narcissa from what she said. So he wore a pair of slacks, a button down dress shirt and a pair of the duster styled robes that he favored.

He walked down to the Floo and grabbed a pinch of the powder. It was the last chance he had to back out. He could always stay home. She wasn't allowed inside the Wards so casually that she could slip on by.

No, he needed to do this.

He threw the powder into the flames and stepped through. Once he was at the Manor, he took a moment to clear himself of the ashes. A female House Elf saw him and came over, vanishing the rest of the ashes. "I will announce you to the Mistress!" The House Elf squeaked.

Harry began to walk through the dark décor of Malfoy Manor, formerly Black Manor. Abraxas Malfoy was a shrewd man, getting the Manor as part of the dowry with Narcissa for his son. It had undoubtedly been quite the piece of cunning, but Harry didn't know the story behind it.

He heard a grandfather clock sound, announcing it to be Eight P.M. as the House Elf he had followed declared him there to Narcissa. He pushed the door open and strode into the parlor where it was just Narcissa Malfoy, sitting in front of a fireplace in a plush lounge chair.

Classical Mundane music played through the air, and Narcissa seemed to savor the sound with a smile upon her red lips. She raised a dark amber fluid to her lips and took a sip. "Punctual as always Harry." She said, sounding quite pleased as she swirled what was undoubtedly a very strong liquor. "Come, sit."

Harry walked over towards the chair opposite Narcissa and slowly sat down. "Beethoven?" Harry asked as he sat. It seemed… odd… hearing the music of a Mundane Composer playing in the home of a staunch Pure Blood.

"Mm… yes… Absolutely love Beethoven's works, love Bach's works. I won't bore you with the trivial details of such." Narcissa said as she closed her eyes and took another drink. "Lucius would have never allowed it. He always threw a fit if he could ever hear the music playing."

She gave a wicked smirk. "Of course, if only he knew I want to a concert for Led Zepplin in Germany back in the early seventies just after Graduation."

Harry was so shocked he didn't even know what to say. The woman that could arguably be called the Pure Blood Queen of Magical Britain… had seen a Led Zepplin concert?

"Mm… The man I was with appreciated the corset I wore… all night long in fact. I wonder if he can still do that trick with his hands…"

"I don't need to hear this!" Harry said. Gah, it felt like someone was burning an image into his mind. An image he did NOT want!

Narcissa laughed into her hand a moment and smiled more. "No, but it did break the tension." Narcissa sat up in the lounge chair more, tucking the heels of her bare feet against her rear. The position shifted the slit in the woman's dress and Harry thought he caught a glimpse of the tops of the stockings she wore. "Relax Harry, I just want to talk. Draco isn't here, he's at the Greengrass manor to spend the weekend with his Betrothed. Indulge me, please?"

Harry offered a slow nod. The flutters in his stomach, the uneasiness… It seemed to melt away. Whether it was just shock at Narcissa's taste or her stories, Harry didn't know.

"How do you feel, Harry? It's been a little over a week now since you killed Lucius. You've gotten to process everything, think about it. Tell me the truth."

Harry wanted to go with his gut reaction. But something told him to take a moment, that Narcissa had all the time in the world for him to take a moment. He looked to his hands, hands that shook ever so slightly. He had not been so steady handed as he used to be. He tried to take stock of what he was feeling.

Narcissa gave another laugh. "Harry, please. Don't tell me you're mourning that man's death? Do you honestly feel grief?"

Put so bluntly… "I don't know." Harry said. "I don't know what I'm feeling. What I've been feeling."

Narcissa took a deep pull of the amber fluid before holding the glass out to Harry. "Drink." She said politely.

Harry took the rounded glass and stared into the amber liquid. No doubt it would burn going down, but it couldn't be like Grog. He raised it to his lips and took a deep drink. It burned going down and Harry coughed slightly. But it didn't feel like he was immediately going to vomit like the Grog had done to him.

Narcissa leaned back into the chair some more with a smile upon her face. "Lucius, as I told you, was a friend and the occasional lover. There wasn't love between us. We were too vastly different. Lucius was a racist bigot… whoops tautology." It was clear that there wasn't going to be an apology for what she said either.

"Oh we had similar views on certain subjects. But whereas he wanted to enslave or slaughter the Muggle Born, I honestly don't care so long as they remember the status of others. You're an Heir to two very prominent, very powerful families Harry. You're entitled. You must be held to a higher standard than they, but they must also realize that you are an Heir and soon to be Lord. In the past you've expressed interest in Muggle Politics and that you will have a seat on their House of Lords. You are, for better or worse, their Social Better. You have wealth, you hold businesses, you can sign their paychecks. Those of lesser class than you work for you so that you can continue to do for them. That is what it means to be Lord."

Harry understood that. It was a symbiotic relationship between Lord and his workers. They did the work, and he paid them for it. They did the work and he kept having work for them.

"But you shouldn't be upset, or grieve, or feel guilty, or all sorts of other things that those like Dumbledore and his ilk would have you feel. Lucius Malfoy was a monster, through and through. I could tell you things that would revolt you, I could tell you things that will make you question many other members of the upper echelons of society." Narcissa said. "He tried keeping it from me, and I tried not to see it. Perhaps I am just as guilty of being a monster." Narcissa's House Elf brought her another glass. "Thank you Evie." She said. She poured herself another glass of the amber liquid from a crystal decanter.

She took another hearty drink, leaning back into the lounge chair. "But the fact remains, you, Harry, have removed a blight from burrowing and feasting at the bosom of our fair society. One of many, and the first of many that you will undoubtedly have to remove. Their Lord wants you for some reason, and should that Lord come back, he will gather his followers and they will come after you once more. So do not mourn the death of Lucius Malfoy, or any others that you must kill."

Harry was taken back by the bluntness of the sophisticated woman. She claimed Lucius to be a friend, and yet she seemed glad to be rid of him. Perhaps it was more freeing than Harry realized. She had done her duty to society, as some of his peers in the upper echelons might see it, and she was looking to do for herself now.

Harry took another drink from the dregs of the liquor left in his glass. He was far too high strung at the moment for the conversation, and he hoped the liquor might help in that regard.

"So tell me truthfully Harry? What do you feel?" Narcissa probed once more.

Harry took a moment, swirling the glass of liquor. There wasn't much left. Maybe another gulp in the glass. What did he feel about Killing Lucius? It wasn't nothing, it couldn't ever be nothing. Harry wasn't as unfeeling as he thought, he simply knew how to hold his emotions better.

"Relief." Harry finally said bluntly. "I won't ever have to deal with the parasite that Lucius Malfoy was. I won't have to play his games, deal with his machinations. I know another will undoubtedly step up to the plate with Lucius' death, but there is very likely chance there will be a power struggle within his supports and they will splinter.

"I feel regret. Not because of his death or that I killed him. I regret toying with him and putting innocent lives in danger. I feel regret because I didn't end his life sooner before he attempted to attack the crowd. There were dozens of opportunities where I could have made it look like an accident. A cutting spell of some sort hitting too deep, his body impacting with the marble too hard…" Harry shook his head.

"I feel like I've spat on what Professor Flitwick taught me, I feel like I spat on the name of Potter. Warriors do not toy with their opponent, duelists don't toy. Get in, get the job done." Harry finished off the liquor and set the glass down on the table with the decanter.

"Lucius may have had a life, and it may have been wrong for me to play judge, jury, and executioner. But you are right. He was a soulless monster, putting school children at risk by unleashing a basilisk just to try and undermine someone. He cared nothing about the future, even for Purebloods. He cared solely about himself."

Harry looked to his hands. They were no longer shaking. They were steady as stone once more, and ready to serve him well. It may have taken days to get there, it may have taken several breakdowns, but he finally understood his emotions to the fullest. Let the people think he felt nothing about Lucius' death. He didn't need to explain himself to them.

Was he going to apologize about killing Lucius? No. Was he going to feel regret? No. Was he going to stop using potentially lethal spells? No.

Harry was the Pale Rider. To challenge him like Lucius had was to court death. He wrenched back the disguise, the mask, that Lucius Malfoy had portrayed and gotten seemingly everyone to follow. He showed everyone the deranged mind inside, and then showed everyone just how truly weak the man was.

Narcissa smiled at the confidence brimming in the Potter heir once more. There wasn't a meekness to the young man anymore. She poured the glass full of the brandy once more and passed it over to him once more. "To you Harry." She raised the glass.

"And to you Narcissa. Thank you." Harry said before he took a deep drink, letting the liquor burn its way down. Perhaps that was what he needed. He needed the mind of one of the Darkest oriented people he knew to talk to him, to explain things to him. It definitely helped in his mind.

Narcissa shifted a little in her lounge chair, setting her glass to the side. "It is freeing, to be honest, not having Lucius watching my every move anymore. I'll act like I'm mourning for a time, for propriety sakes, but you and I both know I won't actually be mourning too much. Lucius was a friend, not the love of my life." At this, she sounded somewhat wistful.

"You sound like you've been there." Harry broached the topic carefully and neutrally.

Narcissa's smile turned, thoughtful and genuinely happy. It wasn't the smile of a Slytherin Princess turned Pureblood Queen. It was the smile that Harry expected someone like Susan and Hannah, or a Gryffindor to have. There wasn't anything hidden behind that smile.

"He was two years younger than me and a perfect gentleman. Oh that man knew my buttons so well. He could make me smile, make me blush, make me angry, and he took it all in stride. His pet name for me when we were alone was 'His Perfect Storm.' I was… furious when I had to break the relationship I had with him. My own personal Golden Boy, and he got taken from me." Narcissa swirled her brandy as she thought back to the years.

"Bold as brass, he got up from the Gryffindor table his fourth year and came over to the Slytherin table to ask me to Hogsmeade that weekend."

"Did you accept?" Harry asked her.

Narcissa gave a full laugh, it sounded like bells ringing. "Of course not!" She said smiling broadly. "I was a sixth year Prefect well into her NEWT years. I had no time for a man, no matter how bold he was, no matter how… absolutely thrilling the idea of dating a Gryffindor was."

She licked her lips. "He held himself like he was untouchable, and I suppose to some extent he was. He had his friends to back him up. They utterly destroyed the Slytherin group that took offense." She smiled a little more, remembering the time that he and his friends dueled, moving and weaving about one another.

A perfect team.

"He came to me, again and again and again, and every time I shot him down. Publically, thoroughly, completely. And yet he never stopped trying. He'd just give me this smile and walk away. Despite the teasing he got from his friends, and the fact I said no every time, he still kept coming back. Kept coming to me.

"But then I saw a side of him that I never expected to see. I saw him with his walls down, I watched him after that. I could see how some of his confidence was forced, some of it from being accepted. He had his own insecurities about things that most students shouldn't have to handle. He was a handsome young man, and there was something thrilling about him. About the impropriety of it."

Narcissa looked up with ice blue eyes that met with emerald green. "My dear aunt's shrieks would have shattered glass if she ever found out I was interested in a half-blood. At the end of sixth year, I gave him his date and it went far better than I could have anticipated. For once, I could let my own walls down. I didn't have to worry about him digging for dirt to use against me."

She remembered that evening fondly. Just a simple dinner outside in the spring air, her Golden Boy aching to learn more about her. And he had been so intelligent, so educated.

"You're blushing." Harry said incredulously. "I didn't know mothers could blush."

Narcissa's smile widened even more. "As I said, he could always make me smile, blush, or angry. Even his memory. I grabbed him by his tie at the end of the date and shoved my tongue in his mouth."

Harry gave a retching sound. "Don't need to hear that!" He said.

Narcissa gave that full laugh once more. "Oh poor boy, you seriously need to thicken your skin to such things. I could tell you things that went on at Hogwarts that would make your head spin, with your Godfather being at the center of it."

Narcissa leaned back with her brandy and finished it off, setting the glass down. It was her fourth for the evening, she didn't need any more. "We first made love Winter of my Seventh year. He was awkward, I was awkward, but there was such… tenderness to it. Just the enjoyment of each other, the love he had for me. Of course, I didn't love him at the time, but I was sweet on him anyways. He ended up a prefect and we both tended to patrol together, regardless of the damned scheduling. After that first time, we'd enjoy each other quite frequently. He wasn't shy, he wasn't afraid."

Narcissa looked off as she turned on the lounge chair and laid her head on the arm rest. Her long blonde hair flowed down towards the floor. "And then he told me his secret, why he was so insecure. And like pieces of a puzzle falling into place, I began to understand things more. Things that always irked me, made me frustrated and angry. But I understood why, why he kept such a thing from me. It's not easy being scared."

She turned her hair to look at Harry who was still sipping the brandy. "I really rocked his world that night. We broke the bed at the Three Broomsticks that night."

Harry made another retching sound. But he stayed. It seemed like Narcissa needed to say all of this, to get it off her chest, and he was going to let her. After having such passion, such love for a person, and then being stuck with Lucius, no doubt she needed the memory session.

"Of course, he's also the one I went to the Led Zepplin concert with. We waited a few months so that he could sneak away from Hogwarts and I could get the portkey."

"Why'd you break it off?" Harry asked. That was what he couldn't understand. If she had been so passionate about the man, why did she break it off? Lucius Malfoy had no doubt been scum at school.

Narcissa inhaled and slowly let it out, heaving a sigh. "My aunt." She sat up and turned to look at Harry, placing her feet upon the marble floor. "She set up the marriage contract for me and Lucius behind Arcturus' back. And she forced me into it, my hands were essentially tied. Either I did it, or she would hurt Andromeda. Please don't tell my sister this, I don't want her to feel like she's responsible for my time with Lucius. It was our Aunt, black-hearted bitch that she was."

"Have you tried to find him again?" Harry asked her.

Narcissa smiled more. "I never lost him. I know exactly where he is. Let me give you a bit of advice before you settle down. Let your wife have access to the money. It will keep your wife happier, knowing she doesn't have to come to you for whatever little trinket she might want. It'll be more difficult to buy things for her of course, but I'm sure you're creative enough that this won't be an issue. It's one of the keys to a long, happy marriage with whatever girl catches your eyes." Narcissa arched a brow as she saw a slight flush to Harry's skin. "There's already someone, isn't there?" She asked teasingly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Uh… I don't know if we're like that." He said.

"I'd be very surprised if you were. You're young, and I'm willing to bet she is too." Narcissa said. "So who's caught the Heir Potter's eyes?"

Harry glanced away for a moment. "Susan Bones." He said simply. "I feel… happy around her. At peace… I feel like I have less to worry about."

Narcissa nodded softly, pleased with the way it sounded. "Good, it's a good basis for a relationship. You'll screw up, but acknowledge that you will and it might be easier to make up with her after a fight. You're both twelve. And best yet, courting the Heiress Bones will keep some of the more hardcore purists at bay while you go about changing things."

Harry nodded softly. "I don't know how serious it will be." He said. They were only twelve after all.

Narcissa smiled. "But back to your earlier statement and where I was going before we got on the tangent, I never lost track of my love. I hired a private investigator, a very discreet one, to just keep tabs on him. Never stalk him or anything, but just… make sure he wasn't in any danger. I never wanted to break his heart, and I had desperately hoped he would have found someone to love."

"He never did, did he?" Harry asked.

Narcissa frowned and shook her head. "No, he didn't."

Harry glanced up as the clock struck nine. He slowly stood up and set the empty glass down beside Narcissa's. "I don't… I don't know much about emotions, or the heart." Harry said slowly. "I'm probably going to write to you quite often while I'm with Susan, trying to figure out the whys and what not. I'm a very logic driven person, and the heart doesn't give two wits about logic.

"But… to me… I would find this man that has your heart still. The way you talk about him, I can tell you still care very much for him. You should do right by yourself. Your aunt can't harm Andromeda now, and Lucius is gone. And Draco will just have to understand that you will have what you want."

Narcissa smiled at Harry's words. "I had already planned on it Harry, but thank you anyways. Chin up and remember, you shouldn't feel guilty about killing Lucius. You did what you had to, let no one else say otherwise. You could have gone about it differently, yes, but the past is behind you and you need to look towards the future." She realized her words might have sounded a tad hypocritical, but she knew the young man in front of her needed to hear that he needed to continue looking forward.

"I look forward, Harry, to seeing the bright future that you are looking to so obviously bring. You are like a mountain, don't let anyone ever bring you down from that position. That's my advice as a former Slytherin. As a mother, my advice is to do what you think is right."

Harry gave a nod to the older woman. He would. He needed to stop wallowing in the death of Lucius Malfoy. He would not toy with his opponents anymore, he would not put innocent lives at risk. But he would not feel bad about Killing Lucius Malfoy.

He was Harry Potter, Scion of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Potter and Black. He was the Heir of Slytherin by Rite of Conquest. He was Death, Rider of the Pale Steed Despair and herald of the Apocalypse.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Across an ocean of molten rock, over beaches of precious gems, and within a Citadel of metal, glass, and ice, a chained down figure looked up to the blackness above him. Yellow eyes stared out, seeing out into the cosmos of things.

No, it was not yet time.

The Pale Rider had not been pushed to the brink yet, he had not fallen in upon himself and realized his power was not enough. Only then would the Pale Rider Ascend. He would become something more, something more than a little blip upon the grand cosmic radar.

And it was then that he would take over.

"_**I can bide my time indefinitely, Little Death. You, a rudimentary creature, have touched upon that which you cannot understand. But when you do, when you Ascend past Flesh, past blood and bone, I will be there, and I will consume you."**_

He knew nothing could hear him. He would not be so lucky to have something to break away from the monotony of an imprisonment between the physical and the spiritual lasting eons. He was nothing more than a fragment of a memory of the Avatar of Destruction.

Ripped apart by the Balance, The Avatar of Destruction had hung on by a shred of existence. And then the Balance banished it to a realm that was neither physical nor spiritual, but something in between. And given the fragment was not either at the moment, he could not interact with anything in the realm. He could not shatter the chains that bound him.

He could not look to bring himself back together and continue his campaign against The King.

He remembered when that tyrant came to his world. He remembered his dearest sister helping him against the King, how they both wounded the King.

But it was still not enough. And the Avatar of Destruction made a conscious decision to not just siphon the power of the Seals of the Apocalypse, but to consume them.

To make the cosmic power that created the seals his.

Of course, the Balance took an exception to that. Not that he blamed the Balance. It was quite a lot of power for one entity.

Not that he'd ever go against the Balance. Creation could not be had without Destruction, Destruction could not be had without Creation. The Cosmos was not some infinite source of power and resources, it was very much limited and the Balance was in charge of recycling that power and resources, over and over again for countless eons.

Worlds were created and worlds were annihilated. It was the way things had always been, the way things were, the way things should always be. No race was above destruction. No entity above giving up their existence and giving their energy back to the cosmos to give birth to another.

Not even the mighty Avatar of Destruction.

So when it would get the chance, and no doubt it would, it would take over the Pale Rider and consume the Seals upon the Earth and usher in the Apocalypse. It would take that power and become more than a fragment of a memory. It did not know everything, it did not remember everything. It was a bare fragment.

But it remembered enough. It knew enough. It knew the Avatar's grand plan, it knew the threat that was the King. An usurper to the Balance that needed to be destroyed for the sake of the Balance to remain.

And undoubtedly, once the King was destroyed, the Avatar of Destruction would be utterly annihilated along with his sister, the Avatar of Creation. And their power would re-enter the cycle of creation and destruction.

And another usurper would rise and the cycle would continue for eons longer.

The fragment of a memory of the Avatar of Destruction looked up to the unending blackness above him once more. The Pale Rider had stumbled on his path, but he had not fallen, he had not fallen so hard he could not rise again.

He was not ready to be taken over.

-**END CHAPTER-**

**A/N: Everything happens for a reason folks. Sorry for the shorter chapter. But we'll get back into the swing of normalish things with the next chapter. Back to Hogwarts where stuff happens.**

**This is Hunter Berserker Wolf, signing off.**


	50. Book 2: Chapter 23

_Last Time: Harry has had a conversation with Narciss with the woman of a darker mindset telling Harry to not feel bad about killing Lucius._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 23

Harry's first day back to Hogwarts was… an odd one. As he walked towards the Great Hall, the whispers seemed to be even more intense. People gave him looks and seemed to be cautious to approach him. Crowds even parted in front of him. He remained stoic throughout it. He would not let these people dictate what he did or felt.

He knew he was much earlier than the other students, but it still was clear a fair amount of students had remained at Hogwarts. It was such a benefit being able to walk up to the castle from his home. He could have even taken the secret passage way at the base of the Whomping Willow.

He glanced around him, looking to the other students. Narcissa was right. Many of them he was a social better to. His signature signed the slip of paper that allowed their parents to bring home gold. He would not let that go to his head, but they could not fathomably comprehend the burdens placed upon him for having that social status.

He glanced up at the Head Table as he walked between the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs. He noticed some of the staff glance his way before going back to their lunch.

Harry took his seat at the front of the Ravenclaw table and began to process of making his sandwich. He would not cause a scene, not in the Great Hall, not on his day back. If someone else was the cause of it, he would finish things.

He noted the few Prefects scooting away just slightly. Not a whole lot, but definitely noticeable to Harry. He didn't care what they thought of him. Once he had use to them again, they would act as though nothing had happened. But Harry would remember.

He ate his sandwich and drank his water. He thought on his meeting after lunch, in Godric's Study. Dumbledore had sent a request for a meeting between them. The old man let Harry decide if he'd go through with the meeting, the date, the time, and the location. To some, it may have seemed like the aged Headmaster was waiting on Harry's schedule, just as Harry had waited on Flitwick's the previous year.

But Harry knew better.

Dumbledore was attempting to get into Harry's good graces. Harry knew this. For what reason, Harry was uncertain, but he knew what the man was trying to do. By letting Harry set up the appointment, including the location, then arguably Dumbledore would be thrown off. It would be in a place of Harry's power, not one of Dumbledore.

And with that place of power came a certain comfort. Dumbledore was going to try and get Harry comfortable around him and possibly let his guard down so something could slip. But the Headmaster would be in for a rather interesting time.

The preemptive strike had been Harry agreeing to the meeting without any additional prodding. No doubt Dumbledore had thought he'd have to keep sending requests until Harry broke down. The second strike to keep Dumbledore off balance would be to hold the meeting in Godric's Study.

The reason for the meeting spot was Harry doubted Dumbledore knew the study even existed. Harry had left everything precisely the way it was when he had found it, with the exception of added paperwork and he had removed War's Gauntlets. This meant that the room did not have the creature comforts that an office or a parlor would have.

It was an old room for a warrior wizard. It did not have creature comforts. It had necessities. The table was too high to comfortably work at while sitting, and too low to comfortably work at while standing. It was just a slab of granite placed upon support. Even the chairs weren't meant for comfort. They were just thick portions of logs from a tree.

It was a far cry from Dumbledore's ornate and plush chair in both his office and at the Head Table. Some might call it a throne, but Harry knew that it had been the seat of the Headmaster for… centuries.

He'd have to double check when it originally was brought in.

The point was that Dumbledore would have to sit upon something less comfortable. It wouldn't be comfortable and would actually hurt after a while. But Harry would be a lot more comfortable than Dumbledore would be, his body was still young, spry.

Harry rose to his feet once he finished his meal. He grabbed his bag and walked out, keeping his slow pace. It was a pace of confidence. He refused to allow anyone to break his confidence any more. He went directly towards the entrance to Godric's personal study.

Once at the painting of the dragon slayer, Harry clasped his hands behind his back and simply waited. He was in no real rush to for Dumbledore to get there. After all, it would be another several hours before the students that had left would be coming back.

Harry heard the brush of robes and steps of the boots that Dumbledore wore on his feet. Harry glanced over his shoulder. "Thank you for joining me Professor." Harry went back to looking at the painting.

"Well, I must admit I did not anticipate the chance the chance to speak with you so suddenly Mister Potter." Dumbledore said as he came up to stand with Harry. "This seems like an odd choice for a conversation."

"In War, Victory." Harry said firmly. Dumbledore was surprised to see the previously unmoving portrait to lower its sword in salute to Harry. The portrait then slowly swung open, clearly not being traversed often. "I will be changing the password again once you leave our meeting. Welcome to the Study of Godric Gryffindor."

Dumbledore was visibly surprised and Harry hid his smirk as he walked in. If he kept the older man off his balance the entire meeting, it might actually go smoothly. Harry moved towards the table and took a seat at his usual spot, on a log that was just slightly off balance that forced Harry to maintain balance on it.

He watched as Dumbledore walked in and began to look around at everything in surprise. He moved along towards some of the artifacts in the room. Some of the artifacts glowed with the arcane energy they possessed.

"Mr. Potter, are you certain some of these are safe?"

"They haven't acted up yet." Harry said simply. "And even if they had, I won't let you or anyone else remove them. They don't belong to you, they don't belong to me."

"But Mr. Potter, these come from a time- "

"They come from a time where Magic was more intent based!" Harry said rather loudly. But he grit his teeth and tried to refocus. "They belong to the Heir of Godric Gryffindor. That is not me or you. Only Godric's Heir will get them."

"But there hasn't been an Heir of Gryffindor at Hogwarts in centuries." Dumbledore protested. "Who knows when there will be another, and if these items will remain safe that long."

Harry sat back a little smugly. It seemed even the venerable Albus Dumbledore didn't know everything. Excellent. "In the last century alone, three of Godric's heirs have passed through these halls. Two Huffllepuffs and a Gryffindor." Harry said.

The sheer shock on Dumbledore's face was worth it all. "You know who Gryffindor's heir is."

"A personal project I have worked on for the majority of the year. Professor, I know why you called this meeting. Let's cut right to the meat of the matter, I tire of your games, Headmaster. Nothing will be removed from this office. It will all go to Godric's Heir. If you wish to find out who it is, I recommend you spend the fifty or so galleons to get all the appropriate information and then spending your free time, what little there must be as Headmaster of this school, researching through the information.

"The meat of the matter is you wish to speak with me in regards to what happened to Lucius Malfoy. I will not apologize. I will not regret his death. End of story, end of discussion. I spoken about the matter with people far more capable of relating to me than you are Professor. I am not some flawless Paragon of Good that will refuse to take a life. I will not give people third, fourth, fifth chances. I barely give second chances."

"But Harry- "

"Mister Potter to you Headmaster." Harry said sharply. "And no buts about this. I will not yield on it. I am the almighty mountain when it comes to my decisions. I do not have to explain myself to you. It had nothing to do with school. Expel me if you feel it necessary, but I will not explain myself to an old man that can't see people for the monsters they are."

Dumbledore looked at Harry for a long time. Those blue eyes so very rarely had any sort of twinkle in them whenever he looked at Harry. Just disappointment and a touch of shame. Slowly, Dumbledore removed his glasses and sat across from Harry. The elder wizard slowly cleaned his glasses with a simple spell before he set them back upon his nose. Briefly, he touched where it had been broken.

Slowly, Dumbledore looked back at Harry. "Perhaps… I am a touch soft Harry." He said softly. He held up his one hand as Harry was about to cut him off. "Please, let us speak as equals here."

"Albus." Harry said, allowing the request after a moment.

"I see the good in everyone. Or I try to. Severus had a great deal of love for your mother – "

Harry's snort cut Dumbledore off. "Excuse me if I don't see it, Albus, but the Potions Master had at best _lusted_ after my mother. A large difference to be certain. A disgusting difference, but a difference. Had he loved her, he wouldn't have treated me like garbage during both meetings I have had with the man. Had he loved her, he would have accepted the fact that she went on to love James Potter."

"The heart is fickle Harry."

"You feel that way with Grindelwald?" It was a cheap shot by Harry, it really was, but Harry's anger was slightly sparked by Dumbledore. He was attempting to lecture him, despite trying to meet as 'equals'.

Dumbledore had the grace to look away. He didn't say anything on the matter. But he stood up and inhaled deeply. No doubt he was trying to think of something, anything, that could connect them in some way. But Harry was the darkest shade of gray that was just shy of being black. He wasn't Dumbledore with his heart of gold that was taken advantage of and unable to change things.

"I hope, Mister Potter, that you're ready for the challenges ahead." Dumbledore said softly. "The political field is a pit of vipers, all ready to strike and tear you apart. If you have found one of the Heirs, I have no doubt you have found the others. I think you have it in you to change things, and you will have my support if you should need it." Dumbledore then saw himself out slowly, glancing about one final time.

Harry stood up. He was never sure what he would get when dealing with Dumbledore.

-_**Scene Break-**_

It was four days since the students returned to Hogwarts. Dumbledore's Floo flared to life and outstepped his brother Aberforth, who Dumbledore had keyed into the Fireplace a long time ago so the man might come as he pleased. Not that Aberforth ever used it really. The two men were at odds with one another since Ariana's death. Not that Albus didn't attempt to mend and fix the bridge between them.

But Aberforth didn't know who cast that last spell that ended their precious sister's life. And until they figured it out, there would be little more than a rope bridge between them that would fall under the slightest hint of pressure and weight.

And Albus didn't blame his brother that.

"Aberforth." Albus greeted, standing up as his brother locked eyes with him. The younger brother strode over confidently.

"You know what this is about Albus." Aberforth growled out.

The offer made by Death. To raise Ariana's spirit and allow them both the answers they so desperately sought. Who was the one that cast that last spell?

"I've given it some thought and I have to ask what in the nine Hells are you thinking Albus?" The younger brother roared out. "Even considering disturbing our sister like that? For what? A peace of mind?"

Albus recoiled at the venom in his younger brother's voice. He had not expected it. But perhaps he should have. Aberforth had always been closer to Ariana, no matter what Dumbledore might have liked to say. Aberforth could keep Ariana calm and happy.

"Of all the stupid, asinine things you could want to do, you want to do this?! You want to disturb the dead? What are you thinking Albus?!" Aberforth roared in anger.

"I'm thinking that we both need this!" Albus said before he could stop himself. And after he had, he sat there in shock at what he had just done. He had shouted at his brother. He had _yelled_ right back at Aberforth. And based on the surprise on Aberforth's face, he hadn't expected it either.

Albus hadn't shouted at Aberforth in… a hundred years? Close to it at the very least. Ever since Ariana died, he had resolutely refused to yell at his brother. No matter the argument, no matter the disagreement, Albus had always held steadfast and never shouted.

"We both need this Aberforth." Albus stood up and paced. He ran his hand through his hair, bushing it back. "We've been fighting for a hundred years, argument after argument. Neither one of us can let this go. I'm so terrified that I was the one that cast the spell, you're so angry at me for the argument to have happened. We can't let it go, we can't let it heal like this and we both desperately need to Aberforth. We need answers, and the only way we're going to get the Answers we speak is if we go and speak with our sister."

Clapping could be heard and both men turned to the door, wands raised.

Shimmering out of the shadows was Death in all of his glory, one hand smacking against his metal gauntlet in a slow clap. "Well spoken Wulfric." He said in that rattling voice. "You cannot heal without closure. And I can offer it."

Albus slowly lowered his wand. "Death." He greeted cautiously.

Death stepped forward slowly, locking those flaming green eyes on Aberforth. "Hello Fredrick." He said.

Albus interjected quickly. "It's what he does Aberfoth. Something to do with the old concept of names having power. He's not once called me Albus." He said.

"I sort of figured." Aberforth snapped at his older brother. He looked to Death then again. "You're the one that proposed this mad idea then?" He asked. His wand came up. "_Reducto!"_

Death batted the spell away effortlessly with his gauntleted hand. "Aberforth Fredrick Lucas Dumbledore!" He snarled out. "You have a lot of nerve! Try something so asinine again, and I promise you batting the spell away will be the least that I do." Death didn't seem too surprised by the attack, but he was most certainly upset by it.

Death then took a deep calming breath, clenching his gauntleted hand briefly before he pinned a glare at Aberforth. "Your sister will be fine, Fredrick. Her body isn't being raised, her Spirit is being brought over. Roused from a deep sleep at worst. She'll be fully coherent and able to speak. She won't be here for more than a few hours at worst. Now decide. I have places to be, things to do, souls to ferry to the afterlife. I will not deal with a petulant child that should have had grown out of this a hundred years ago"

"I would like to see her." Albus said almost immediately. "If nothing else, but to say that I am sorry for how I treated her. Say sorry for how Gellert treated her."

Aberforth looked at Albus for a time then over at Death. He nodded his head. "I want to see her as well." He said cautiously. If his brother could do it, then he should most certainly be allowed to do it. He didn't want to, but it was his sister. He hadn't seen her in a hundred years.

Death turned upon his heels. "I will meet you in Godric's Hallow tonight. How you get there, I don't care." He walked out, his invisibility cloak shimmering and causing him to disappear. There wasn't even footsteps to follow.

Albus stood up and made his way over to the fireplace. He transfigured his robes into something a bit warmer and cast the warming charms upon them. He then tossed Floo Powder in and stepped through for their parent's home at Godric's Hallow. Even if it had barely been used by the brothers, it would still work as a Floo Destination.

Aberforth hesitated a moment before following suit. He needed to do this as well, despite his words to the contrary.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Harry stalked around the graveyard. He walked it, learning about the spirits that were still there. He could feel souls that were waiting to pass on. A soul took three days to pass on unless the Pale Rider helped them. But he would need his strength that night. He would be performing magic that he had never done before.

The theory seemed easy enough, and he had already prepared the reagents. His blood would also factor into it. But that was fine.

He examined the graves. Dozens of Perevell as well. He had already paused briefly at the Phoenix that marked his parents' graves and wished that he could spend more time with them. He promised that he would return and that he would take his time to actually speak with them. Even if they couldn't hear him, he was sure it would help him.

He paused in front of Ariana Dumbledore's gravestone. He brushed the snow from the top of it carefully and kneeled beside the grave. No need to step on the grave. That was just disrespectful. So he kneeled there, tracing the letters of her name in the marble headstone.

Ariana Astrid Maria Dumbledore. Born August 5th, 1885. Died August 29th, 1899. She died so young. And not even a full one hundred years ago. How easy it would be to raise her as a zombie, to say her peace. But then if he did that, she would be murderous and kill whoever killed her.

Regardless of whatever barriers Harry put up.

Harry stood up and began to walk around the grave. He dragged the Harvester behind him so the blade dragged through the hard ground effortlessly. Like a constantly heated knife through ice, it seemed to just melt the dirt and snow around the blade as he dug the trench around the grave.

He pulled out a small bag and opened it. He began to sprinkle the powder along the trench. He would never repeat the process ever again. He would never tell Susan about the spell. It would, with some luck, die with him. The reagent was volatile. The slightest little mistake would have it blowing up in his face. Thankfully, with his knowledge of alchemic properties, he was able to stabilize it at least for a time with a reagent that wouldn't react to the spell either. The reagent would remain inert.

Harry paused in front of the gravestone and spears the earth with the Harvester. The barrier went up around him and he held his hands up in a sort of prayer fashion. He began the spell, even before the Dumbledore brothers got there. He chanted in Ancient Egyptian. He could feel the primal magic flowing through him and his body moved in time with it.

So many old magic were based upon dance because the body moved with the magic flowing through the castor. It was not a conscious decision, it was something that simply just happened.

There were various books of death that might have helped him channel the spell, but many of them were evil. Especially if they contained within them human death to go into their creation. It was a Pale Rider's duty to destroy them on sight since they fell into the same categories as most Lichs.

Maybe he could write a manuscript on Necromancy that wouldn't be considered evil? Something to consider once he got the Necromancy laws repealed. He had to survive to adulthood first.

A portal of blackened void with a glowing blue outline opened before the headstone. Drifting out was a soul, summoned to this plane by the anchor that was her grave. Though he doubted anyone else could see it, Harry could in fact see the chain that anchored her to the other side, even as the portal snapped shut with the young girl on this side.

Ariana had not changed in the slightest since she had died. She was still a slender fourteen year old girl with long brown hair that came down to her waist. The only thing different was instead of a body to inhabit, she was a slightly corporeal spirit. She still could be seen through, and passed through.

And she had a serene smile on her face. "Hello Albus, Hello Aberforth." She said. "You've both aged so much."

Both men looked stunned and Harry stepped away a moment, leaning against a tree within the graveyard. He wanted to give the men their moment with their sister. Give them their closure. He stayed within earshot, he was curious as well as to what happened. Newspapers from back then could only give so much really.

"Ariana…" Aberforth spoke, stepping forward. His voice cracked and no doubt tears threatened to spill into his beard. "I'm… I'm so sorry." He sobbed out.

Ariana gave a patient smile and shook her head. "There's nothing to forgive Abe." She said, floating towards him. She knew she couldn't touch him. "Brothers fight and argue, I was never angry with either of you. You both did what you thought was right."

Albus stepped forward slowly, shuffling along really. "It's… It's my fault. I'm so sorry Ari. I should have… I should have thought- "

Again she gave that patient smile. The dead, especially someone like Ariana who had been dead for near a hundred years, had time to come to terms with things. And Ariana must not consider either men her murderer. Briefly, Harry wondered what would have happened had he brought Gellert Grindelwald. Would that patient smile turn vicious? Would she screech and scream and curse his existence?

"Al, you were always destined for great things. But Gellert always filled your head with things beyond you." She said. "Pity he's not here, I did like him. He always brought me sweets whenever he came over."

Albus swallowed heavily, tears streaming from his face and into his beard. He had to ask the difficult question. He had to unburden both himself and his brother. "Ari… who… Who-" He choked on a sob. How could he ask her who killed her?

Ariana glanced away from her brothers and looked over to Harry. "Pale One, can I ask a question?" she asked.

Harry inclined his head. "Yes my Lady?" He asked as he stepped forward.

"How must I answer?" she asked.

Harry glanced to her a moment and then to her brothers. "It must be the truth." Harry said. "Completely, utterly. There cannot be wiggle room in what you say. You may omit details, but what you do say must be concretely the truth."

Ariana nodded and turned to her brothers. "Gellert did not cast the spell that struck me down." She told. Both brothers sobbed, and Albus' knees buckled. "But it is not either of your fault. Gellert threw up the shield the spell bounced from. I won't tell you who cast the spell, but I do not blame any of you. I was scared and most certainly not in my right mind." Ariana said. "I should not have been anywhere near that fight, but Gellert was seemingly attacking my brothers."

Ariana then looked to Aberforth. "And shame on you, Abe." She tapped his nose with an ethereal finger. "Breaking Al's nose at _my_ funeral. Shame on you." Her tone was scolding but light.

Harry barked out a rattling laughter as he stepped forward. "I think it is time that you returned Ariana. I doubt your brothers have any more questions."

Ariana nodded and turned to look at her brothers. "Live. Both of you. Mum and Da don't want you coming to the other side for a while yet. No suicide, you both had better live and Albus you had better visit Gellert more often. Terrible things he may have done, but he was still your friend. You had better go visit him in that horrid prison."

Albus nodded swallowing the sob that threatened to consume him. "I will." He promised.

Ariana looked to Aberforth who nodded. She then moved over to Harry and hugged him tightly. "Thank you." She said.

Harry was unsurprised that she could touch him and feel solid. He wrapped an arm around her slender form and nodded. "You're welcome." He said softly. "Now come my Lady, it's time to send you back to your rest." He slipped his arm around hers and escorted her back to the grave.

The portal opened back up and she drifted through with a wave behind her.

Harry removed the Harvester from the ground and looped it around the Dominion Gauntlet. He looked to the Dumbledore brothers a moment before he stalked away towards Despair on the side of the cemetery.

Closure was had, even if it was painful. But sometimes, to heal an old wound properly, it had to be cut open again.

-**End Chapter-**

**A/N: Crap guys, I'm so sorry about how late this chapter is. I'm going to try and update on a more regular basis, but I make no promises. We don't have many chapters left of Book 2, so I'm hoping I can rush through them in the coming weeks.**


	51. Book 2: Chapter 24

_Last Time: Harry has returned to Hogwarts and met with Dumbledore. As promised, he also brought back Ariana Dumbledore so that the Dumbledore brothers could have some closure in which one of them cast the curse that ended her life, but it was from a freak rebound off of a shield by Gellert Grindelwald that it struck her and ended her life._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 24

Hannah's chest burned in agony. Her legs hurt. Her arms hurt. Sweat matted her hair to her forehead and the back of her neck. Her lips and mouth were dry and her fingers trembled. Never before had she been so pushed as to what she had just gone through. She had thought being Pestilence would be taxing, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this.

Her best friend collapsed beside her, rolling over onto her back. Hannah couldn't even muster the strength to raise her head and see Susan breathing as labored as she was.

Hannah liked to think she was fairly fit for a young witch. She swam every summer, she walked with a brisk pace, even up the stairs of Hogwarts. She participated in snowball fights the Hufflepuff house had almost every weekend of winter. It all required one to move and be active. She even helped out in the greenhouses, lugging around sizeable bags of dirt and fertilizer. Yet all of that did not prepare her for the likes of what currently held her hate. "Hate… You…" She rasped out, gasping for gulps of air.

Harry Bloody Potter.

Amused chortles came from the object of her rage. "If you can talk still, you're apparently able to keep going."

She paled at that. She had seen what Harry subjected himself to. Physically and magically pushing himself to his limits and then _shattering_ those limits. With his scythe, he was fast enough that it was just a spinning blur for her as it spun around him during his practice, shifting from scythe to halberd to spear to pike to trident and back again. She had never expected him to start putting her through that sort of training.

And it started with the most painful of training. Training she knew was vital to her position as medical support for not only Harry but War.

He was teaching her how to dodge.

The Room of Requirements was done up in a flat and empty training area, though Harry had promised that it would change and she'd have to start reacting to being flat out attacked from ambush. But that was when she got better. Not if, when. Harry had told her he wasn't giving her the option to not get better.

Dressed in a pair of sweats and a tank top, Hannah had spent the last undeterminable amount of time dodging. She threw herself out of the way of Harry's attacks, getting little more help than him firing the Stinging Hex at her. Not really painful with one or two. But dozens striking at the exact same points, that pain started to feel less like a slap on the wrist and more like a bee stinging her constantly.

Worse, it seemed like no matter what she did to anticipate him, he would throw it out the window if she succeeded in dodging any more than three in a row. At first she had thought he was aiming for center mass. Then she took one to the forehead. Then she thought that maybe he wasn't going to fire at her while dodging. She took three in the same dodge, like she was supposed to contort or twist her body in midair or anticipate where he was going to fire. Then she thought he had to verbalize it. He quickly dashed that thought.

But what really got her fuming was when he started to not even use his wand, instead making them form in her peripherals and hit her from there. The sort of magical power and control to be able to do that was absurd but Harry had long since shown that he had the power and control for it. Especially now that he didn't have to limit himself

She managed to gulp down enough air that she wasn't practically wheezing, but she could go for a glass of water. Her throat felt as dry as the desert Harry took her to. And he said they were going to be doing the training as often as the week allowed until he felt she was performing adequately.

Did she mention how much she hated him? And it was only the Friday within her first week back at Hogwarts. He had thrown her into the training regime before she had a chance to even start on her homework.

And he was making Susan do much the same. Only instead, Susan was running laps in the room and occasionally running what Harry liked to call 'suicides'. Sprinting back and forth like that was not her idea of fun.

Harry cleared his throat and approached and sat down near them so they could both look over at him. Hannah carefully managed to prop herself up on her elbows, and glaring at him. He sat cross legged so casually like he hadn't just been tort- training them for the last bit of time.

"Now, who would like to take a gander at why I had you both start with such physical training?" Harry asked. Amusement still laced his voice.

"Because you're a sadistic arse?" Hannah asked in a dry tone. Usually she wouldn't be one for so blatantly swearing, but Harry deserved it.

Harry shook his head and chuckled a bit more. "No. It's to make you both stronger. Magic is intertwined with the body. Healthy body makes for a healthy mind. For the Magical Folk, we have a triangle to worry about. Health body, healthy mind, healthy magic. Our magic can help us do a great many things, but it can wither away from us if we don't chose to support it with a healthy mind and a healthy body.

"This will get easier and harder. Just as you think you've gotten used to this level, I'll push you further. And then further. And then further. I'm going to push your limits until they break and I'm not going to let you two falter or break. The world cannot afford it." Harry looked to them both with those piercing green eyes.

"Why am I running?" Susan asked from her spot on the floor.

"Because the body is linked." Harry reiterated. He took a moment to look upwards and think. "Let's take Dumbledore for example. A man well past his prime, and yet he still moves rather spryly. He's sharp as a razor and as swift as a falcon. He is surprisingly healthy for his age, and probably does some form of stretches every day so that it continues to be so. Yet despite his advanced age, his mind has not withered, his magic has not withered. While I have a theory that his magic is being augmented, something I don't necessarily disagree with under some circumstances, a man as old as Dumbledore generally has difficulty remembering things or speaking. Yet pushing one hundred and twenty years of age, Dumbledore is still articulate, he remembers things clearly, and he is capable of being a political powerhouse. Why? Because his magic helps strength the mind. Healthy body, healthy mind, healthy magic.

"Dumbledore won't be performing any national level feats of athleticism any time soon, but he's never complained about arthritis, never complained about an aching hip, knees, or back. And there is only so much potions and spells could do to fix that sort of thing at his advanced age. So that tells me his magic is slowing the degradation of his body down to an extent that he can still perform physical feats of a Non-Magical individual in their fifties and sixties, people half his age. Even just watching him at dinner, you can see that he's not affected by the ails of an aging body. He's not stretching out his spine, not rotating his wrist or twisting his knee.

"Coming back to you Sue, you're running to strengthen your magic. The less your magic needs to augment your body for to keep it healthy, the stronger it will become. You're going to build up stamina and you'll find that you can cast spells longer, cast stronger spells, and cast generally more." Harry said.

"And how fast are you?" Susan asked before Hannah could.

Harry shrugged just a little bit. "In the 1988 Olympics, the gold medalist in the hundred meter dash ran it in just under ten seconds. Granted, this was among a drug controversy. But that's Olympic level grown adult, Non-Magical. One hundred meters in just under ten seconds. With magic strengthening and reinforcing my muscles, a control method I'll show you both when you're stronger, I can run that same hundred meters in just under sixteen seconds.

"Ten thousand meters was done in about twenty seven and a half minutes. My uncle…" Harry frowned a bit. "Wanted to see my cousin compete in the Olympics one day and had my cousin watch the Summer Olympics. Anyways, my point is, I can run ten thousand meters in about forty minutes. My speed drops off the longer I have to run." Harry admitted.

He shrugged his shoulders. "The point is, I'm very fast. But I use my magic to push myself to be faster to be stronger. Cheating, perhaps to a Non-Magical. Just another way to stretch my magic. Without the use of magic, I'm considerably slower. One hundred meters in just under twenty seconds, ten thousand meters in about fifty five minutes. And yes, I do both. I run it with my magic, I run it without my magic. And I perform suicides to the point of throwing up and then I do more. I put my body through hell so that when Hell comes knocking my body is ready."

Harry looked pointedly at Hannah. "The Basilisk struck faster than my stinging hexes ever will. A lot faster. Your short burst speed needs to be faster than mine." Dodging was paramount to her.

Harry stood himself up and looked upwards. "Water!" He called out. Two goblets of water appeared by Hannah and Susan. "Take ten minutes, then we begin again." Harry said.

Hannah grasped the goblet and took a big drink. She had a feeling by the time the training was done, she was going to hate Harry quite a bit more.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Flitwick finished grading the papers of his students and set them to the side. He stretched himself out, his back just a little tight. With a small pop and a sigh, he soon went back to looking off in the distance. His thoughts kept going to one Harry Potter, his protégé.

Or at least who he thought was to be his protégé.

The door to his classroom opened and he glanced up. Surprise filled him at the sight of Harry himself. It was the Saturday of the first week. Harry unshouldered his bag and began to use charms to push the desks and the chairs to the sides. He also activated the charms for the miniature dueling arena Flitwick had personally prepared in his classroom to teach his students.

Flitwick arched a brow a bit as Harry stood there, stony faced and waiting. What did the young Potter Heir have in mind? He didn't seriously think Flitwick would so casually forgive him did he?

And yet… Yet Flitwick rose to his feet and with a flick of his wand, sent his desk and chair to the side so they didn't take any stray spell fire. He didn't want to have to resort through the rolls of parchment. He began to walk up to the stage that Harry stood upon, waiting calmly.

Flitwick stood across from him. The stage was ten feet wide and twenty five feet long. Miniature compared to the Quidditch Pitch sized Dueling Arenas used in the international circuits. But it was enough. Flitwick watched as Harry gave the barest of nods. Even still, Harry refused to acquiesce to the traditional meeting between two duelists. It actually burned Flitwick a good deal.

Flitwick gave the traditional bow, not taking his eyes off of Harry. Just what did Harry expect out of this? Flitwick stepped back up and held up his wand. He held it in his thumb and first two fingers. The third and fourth were used to assist in swishing and twirling it for spell work.

He had fully expected Harry to go into the loose basic stance of Harry's Fortress Style. It was all about Harry remaining fluid so he could dodge and get out of the way. What Flitwick did not expect was for Harry to place his left palm against his right forearm and hold the wand at the ready pointed outwards. Harry's right foot was just slightly ahead of the left.

Flitwick's eyes hardened a moment. This was not what they had worked on for so long. He summoned up a chain. Cutting hex, blasting hex, freezing hex, Goblin Lightning Curse, the Bird Summoning Charm. His wand came up and three ravens exploded from it, flying at Harry.

Harry's eyes glowed green before a single lance came to point from his wand. The ice lance shot forward, blowing through Flitwick's chain and forcing Flitwick to dodge. His eyes were wide at the sheer power behind that spell.

Though he had little time to think about that. Harry's harsh boot connected with his sternum. He had crossed twenty five feet in just under two seconds to kick Flitwick. It was not a necessarily illegal move in the dueling circuit, but not many wizards would think to cross the distance. It was generally too dangerous.

Apparently Harry never got that memo. Flitwick was sent flying into one of the barrier walls when Harry shoved him with his wind. Flitwick slammed into it hard, his robes cut up from the high velocity wind that had just battered him.

Harry held his wand with both hands the handle coming through his thumbs and the shaft sticking out between the fore and middle fingers of both hands, almost like a Muggle gun. The wand glowed red and Flitwick hastily erected a shield before Harry's spell absolutely _shattered_ it. The stunner sent Flitwick sliding to the other end of the arena by the door.

As Flitwick drifted into unconsciousness, he heard booted feet come towards him. "I understand _Ko'raq." _Harry said softly. A roll of parchment placed beside Flitwick's head was the last thing he saw before he succumbed to the Stunning spell.

And Harry… he had called Flitwick Master the way a Goblin Apprentice would.

_**-Scene Break-**_

Harry approached Godric's study with his chin held high and his shoulders squared. It was now two weeks after the Holidays and the evening of that Saturday. He had already felt the proximity wards he had placed there that morning trip.

Trip three times.

"In Peace, Vigilance." Harry said to the portrait and it swung open as he approached. It closed behind him and he stepped into the study proper, looking at the three other individuals that were in there. One looked rather nervous, one looked curious, and one looked slightly annoyed.

"What's the meaning of this Potter?" Harry looked to the annoyed one. Aria MacNair, sole daughter of one Walden MacNair. Fifth year Slytherin Prefect and third of her class in her year. "I have to deal with a Bloodtraitor and a Mudblood?" She asked.

Harry leveled a stern glare at the brunette pureblood. He took a step forward and looked at her. "Quit putting on airs Aria." Harry said coldly. "We're not around your daddy or his Death Eater cohorts, we're not a bunch of Slytherins brought up on that bigotry the way some of your House Mates are. And we're most certainly not around Severus Snape. Besides, this meeting is about changing Magical Britain, a change that is long overdue."

The girl watched Harry a moment before she tucked a strand behind her ear. Slowly she sat down and crossed her leg. "Mum's a Muggleborn." She said. "We keep it a secret from Dad's friends. Dad is a bigot, but he loves Mum." She gave a shrug of her shoulders.

Harry offered an amused look. "Well, the so called Non-Magical Born among us," Harry glanced to the nervous mop of sandy blonde hair. "Isn't so Non-Magical." Harry said. "Please, sit." Harry moved to a separate table and gathered his reports.

"Cedric." Harry offered as he placed the stacks for Hufflepuff in front of the other fifth year. "Aria." He placed the stack for Ravenclaw in front of her. "And Colin." Harry put the stacks of paperwork in front of Colin.

Harry cleared his throat, still standing. "Well, I had this big speech prepared. Admittedly though, I don't think this would call for one." Harry ran both his hands through his hair. "So I'm just going to come out and say it bluntly. You are other three Founders' Heirs." Harry said. He slid three ring boxes across the polished wood.

The Signet rings for the Heirs.

"Those stacks of papers are Genealogy reports. Working through a thousand years of births, deaths, dead-ends, and various other problems took me the better part of the first half of this school year. I devoted a lot of time to it." Harry explained. "I got documents from Gringotts to verify bloodline, I got documents from the British Government on various things as well. Genealogy is not an easy thing, especially going back the better part of a thousand years. But I assure you, those are about ninety-five percent accurate."

Aria was the first to open hers and began reading, tracing her finger down the page. "Through Mum's side?" She asked, astonished.

Harry rubbed his chin and inhaled briefly. "Fact of the matter is, change needs to happen for Magical Britain. Our numbers have dwindled so considerably that if we don't do something, we'll die out in about five more generations. And while that may seem so far away, I'd like to point out, Dumbledore is old enough to be many of our Great-Great Grandfather. Magicals live for a long time, long enough we could see our people die out if we don't enact change now.

"More and more, Non-Magicals are giving birth to Magicals. We find them, uproot them from their society, force them into ours for seven years, and then shun them afterwards. Well I say no more!" Harry pounded his fist on the table, causing everything on it to rattle. "How many like Colin leave for the Non-Magical World? How many leave the country to live elsewhere, where they can get work and not be looked down upon?"

Colin raised his hand rather shakily, almost like he was in class or in Harry's study group. "Er- Har- Er- Heir Potter?" He asked cautiously.

"Call me Harry, Colin. We're going to be working close together for the next few years."

"Right, Harry." Colin said. "But what can we do? We're just four students, right?"

"Students we may be, Colin." Harry said patiently. "But we are also the Founders' Heirs. You Gryffindor, Cedric for Hufflepuff, Aria for Ravenclaw, and myself for Slytherin. Alone, we wouldn't be able to do anything." Harry stepped away from the table and went to a bookshelf. "However, the Founders set in a Clause that their Heirs may take control of the School if necessary, but only when all four have gathered. This would keep someone like Salazar from enacting rules that the others wouldn't agree with and vice versa.

"The point being Colin," Harry put the book he retrieved on the table. "We are able to dissolve the Board of Governors and make decisions to change Hogwarts ourselves." He looked to Colin a moment. "I seem to recall a conversation you once had with Vega LeStrange. Your father is a milk man, yes?"

Colin blushed, a bit embarrassed. He nodded softly. "And Dad wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Do what you love Colin, that's what you should take from that. But the point is, a milk man wouldn't exactly make a lot of money and Hogwarts is frankly expensive. Take the Weasley's for example. This a family stricken with poverty, even though their father makes a fair bit of money. Arthur Weasley is in fact a department head within the Ministry itself. But paying for the tuition of now five kids, it probably takes most of his money. What I am saying, Colin, is that one of the things I want to change is offering sponsorship to six students entering their first year, where we, the Heirs of Hogwarts, would instead cover the costs of all seven years. However, going through the Board of Governors is frankly impossible, they are rather tight fisted with the Hogwarts' funds, with the exception being the Hogwarts vault that was set up shortly after the founding of Gringotts. That can only be accessed by us."

Harry rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I guess I am ended up giving a bit of a speech." He said.

Cedric looked through the information, briefly before leaning back. "Okay, but what about things that _we_ think need to change?" He motioned towards himself and the other two Heirs.

"We discuss them. Everything we all want to change." Harry said to assure Cedric. "All four of us need to come to an agreement within the abilities of the funds that we have available to Hogwarts. We each come from different backgrounds. Aria represents someone that doesn't want the Non-Magically born to come in and change everything. Colin represents those Non-Magically born that are expected to learn how things happen but aren't taught. We fail as a nation if we don't teach our traditions but still expect an outside to follow it."

Cedric nodded slowly. "So we're not going to actually be deferring to you for all of this then?"

Harry shook his head. "Though, and this is my Slytherin side coming into play, I think you three should keep the fact you're Heirs hidden. Don't wear the Signet Ring publically, don't announce you're the Heir."

Aria glanced up a moment. Being a Slytherin, she could understand a bit of the cunning behind it. Harry could see the gears working in her mind, but she didn't have the full puzzle. "Why?" She asked slowly.

Harry sighed. He didn't want to explain why. It would be introducing Colin to a darker aspect of the Wizarding World. "Jealousy." He said simply. "Some people have been raised on the notion that they're the Heir to some important family, such as one of the Founders. While there is no money or title associated to the Heirship, some people are… adamant about their pedigree." Harry inhaled deeply. "And people are willing to kill for that. I promise you, at least three times through that genealogy report, a line was killed off by another line for nothing more than the title of Heir."

He looked to three. Cedric looked off put by it, Colin looked positively green and Aria looked apathetic about it. She was probably the darkest of them all, even if she wasn't a bigot. But he could tell it was a bit of a fine line that she walked. He didn't want to think too hard on the contradictions that was Aria MacNair.

He didn't want to think of just how little it would take to push her to become a bigot like her father. Hopefully having to be around Colin would dismiss some of those rooted ideas and allowed the young woman to begin coming into her own ideas.

"Whereas you're already a known quantity as being Slytherin's Heir. The only one that would refute that claim is the Dark Lord." Aria said. "Plus with your recent victory over Lucius Malfoy, many would be hesitant in attacking you."

Colin looked a little greener at the mention of Harry's duel. "Harry, did you really kill someone?" he asked a bit nervously.

Harry sighed a moment and closed his eyes. "Yes Colin, I did. I did not cast the spell with the intent to kill him, I did not go into the duel with the intent to kill Lucius Malfoy. It simply happened. Now please let it go."

Colin nodded a moment and stared down at the table.

Harry cleared his throat a moment to gather attention. "A few other things of note that I have in mind." Harry said. "We won't have to pay Hogwarts tuition. If it has already been paid, we won't get that back. Neither will our immediate family members. Siblings, sons and daughters when we eventually have them. Selfish, perhaps, but in the case of Colin," Harry inclined his head to the Non-Magically born Heir. "It is not right that we possibly lose Godric's Heir because his father cannot afford the schooling for six more years."

"Plus for my brother." Colin spoke up.

Harry nodded. "Case in point." He said simply. A milk man was a specialty job, and while Colin's father probably made a bit of money off of it, Hogwarts was expensive. Tuition, robes, books, potion supplies, parchment and more.

"That seems to favor you two more than us." Aria said, arching an eyebrow. She had a look of sophisticated 'you better explain'.

Harry waved it off. "My seven years have been paid in advanced. I won't see even a knut of it back." He said simply. "But your children, then whoever ends up Ravenclaw's Heir's children and so on won't have to pay. The free tuition for the Heirs will follow the Heir line."

"What are the sort of things do you plan to change?" Cedric asked.

Harry inhaled. While he knew he had to make a speech in front of everyone eventually, he needed to sell it to the three in front of him. "Curriculum for starter." Harry said. "Hogwarts was once the premier center of Magical Learning in the World. We'd have people come from what is now France, Germany, Russia, Turkey. A year numbered in the hundreds instead of the dozens. Houses had possibly a thousand students. We had more classes with experts coming in to lecture. The wards hummed with life from all the magic coming and going.

"I also want to get Goblins in here once more. Goblins, Giants, and a dragon or two. Renovate Hogwarts once more. We have a centuries old castle, a military installation before the Founders bought it from the Goblins. The last time it was renovated was when plumbing was installed. We still use torch scones and fire braziers. We should be using brighter lighting, a form of electrical lighting. The Goblins have already developed something and will be able to put it in place, I'm sure of it.

"Supplies are also on my list. The learner brooms are shoddy at best, a death trap at worst." Harry went bluntly. "It turns many off to Quidditch and so we don't end up having more people interested in playing. Books for the library, as well as getting in and cataloguing what we have up there."

Cedric let out a low whistle. Colin was looking at Harry with something and even Aria seemed impressed. "You've thought about this a lot already." Cedric said.

Harry looked to the older Hufflepuff and shrugged his shoulders. "Let me get my notes, and I can give you the finer points of everything. I've had a lot of time to think about this and figure out what _I _would like to change. Change needs to come to Magical Britain, and it has to start here, at Hogwarts. The future of our nation comes through these halls for seven years. We need to do something to ensure that our future is as bright as can be."

"How often do we meet?" Colin asked.

"Once a week if possible." Harry said. "Saturday from after lunch to before dinner. If necessary, we go until it's almost curfew and we eat in here. If you can't make it, try to let us know a day in advanced and we know we have that day off."

"Quidditch Practice might get in the way, but I'll let you guys know." Cedric said.

Aria shrugged her shoulders. "I have nothing planned that time. My homework is usually done."

Colin simply nodded his acceptance of the day.

Harry nodded. "One last piece of business. Colin, as Heir of Godric Gryffindor, this room is yours." Harry said. "This was Godric Gryffindor's study. Everything in it belongs to you. I have already removed the object Gryffindor gave to me last year. If nothing else is need, we can get you to change the password of your choosing and we'll know for the meeting days."

The four left, the other three leaving their Signet Rings in the room. They didn't need them until they had finished their plans for the future of Hogwarts. And if Harry admitted to himself only, it felt good that some of the burden was off his shoulders, even if he wished he didn't have to put some of that weight on Colin's shoulders.

Once outside, the four stood at the Knight standing over the dragon. He looked expectantly at Colin who Harry had placed at the front of the group. He was Godric's Heir. He deserved to be able to make the password.

Colin looked up at the Knight after a moment. "Crazy Train." He said firmly.

Harry noticed the other two looking at Colin funny. "Uh… It's the name of a song." Harry said blinking.

Colin turned once the Knight had saluted in recognition of the new password. He flushed a bit under the attention. "Dad loved Black Sabbath and loves Ozzy Osbourne. He plays it all the time and I just picked it up." He admitted.

Harry laughed and started to head off. Though as he did, he heard Colin leave, humming the tune to Crazy Train as well. It was going to be interesting working with the kid.

-**Chapter End-**

**A/N: So yeah… there's a thing. I gotta get through a few things before I can call this story closed, the least of which is the announcement of the plans for Hogwarts.**

**And I wanted to give Colin a bit more identity than 'that Harry Potter fan with the camera.' Soooo… He's a metal head.**


	52. Book 2: Chapter 25

_Last Time: Harry has begun to train Hannah and Susan. He has shown that he has learned the lesson Flitwick was attempting to teach him and he has gathered the Founders' Heirs for their first meeting._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 25

Harry went down to greet the guests that Hogwarts was playing host to. He dressed up in his school uniform with the lack of the robes that hung over it. After a bit of work for the past two weeks, it was finally time to do something he had been wanting to do for almost two months.

Harvest the Balthazar.

The Basilisk was going to bring a lot of galleons to Harry. Numbering in the millions to be perfectly honest. And a team of expert international hunters were coming in to appraise the Basilisk for Gringotts. It would then be sold as a whole to Gringotts who would then auction it off piece meal internationally.

The creation of such a dangerous creature was illegal everywhere the ICW could claim legality over which was over one hundred countries. It was not as many countries as could claim to be members of the United Nations, but it was still a solid chunk of the world, making Basilisk parts extremely rare and valuable.

And Harry had left his in good condition.

Dumbledore was already in the Great Hall greeting their guests. Harry had informed the aged Headmaster two weeks ago that he was claiming the Basilisk as his to sell. And though Dumbledore looked like he wanted to say something, he chose against it and inclined his head to Harry, simply letting the matter go.

Harry approached slowly. He saw four grizzled men wearing various states of hide armor. They were armed with bows, throwing spears, and Harry could see the wands. One also had a high powered rifle. These were hunters, men that survived off the fat of the land and were not all that civilized. Even the most civilized looking of them had a rough and scraggly reddish brown beard that looked like it could be kept better.

And among them was Gringott from Gringotts, a bit of a surprise to see the Head of the Bank there. Rotgut, his Potter Account Manager was there was well. An honor guard of twelve heavily armed and black armored Goblins and in the middle of them was the High King himself with his translator. Harry was especially surprised to see High King Ragnarokk, but he was not looking at Dumbledore, instead letting his translator do the talking.

"Oi! Boy, you the one with the claim to the basilisk?" The man with the reddish brown beard addressed Harry as he spoke, and Harry could see a crossbow on his back with a revolving chamber that loaded the bolts.

"I am." Harry said. The man's accent reminded Harry of the actor Sean Connery in the old James Bond films.

"Then lead on. I would very much like to see this Basilisk."

Harry inclined his head and turned on his heel. "This way then Master Hunter. Balthazar's chamber is a bit of a walk." Harry began to lead the way towards the Girls' bathroom on the second floor.

"Is this some sort of joke?" One of the other hunters asked, a thick Russian accent as they arrived.

Harry looked at the hole still in the sinks where he had blasted the way in. The icy steps he made were still there, weeks later. It told him he had used a lot of power. He began to walk the steps slowly. The ice re-froze with each step. He used enough power with each footstep to make the ice last the rest of the day. He'd come back later and unfreeze them properly.

Once down in the antechamber, there was some murmurs from the Goblin Honor Guard as well as a whistle from one of the Hunters at the skin. "Are you selling this as well?" Harry glanced to the man that spoke in a thick Mandarin accent.

"Yes. I estimated it to be about forty feet in length. While not at preserved as the rest of the basilisk, I'm sure it can still fetch a hefty price." Harry said.

The group moved on towards the door that Harry had cut through with the Sword of Cratus. "Hold here." Harry said. "I'm going to need to go in and check the Basilisk's eyes, to ensure they're closed."

"That could kill you Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said in shock.

"He's right boy, a basilisk's eyes are still lethal even when dead." The head Huntsmen said in that thick Scottish accent.

Harry didn't want to reveal anything. "I'll manage." He said as he stepped past the door.

"Wait." The man said and Harry turned to look at the hunter. He pulled out a silver stiletto dagger. "Take this. Where the ridge of the eyes meets the skull is softest, piece through and sever the connective tissues of the eyes. Once the eyes are disconnected, they'll no longer be lethal. If you're not done in ten minutes, I'm assuming you're dead."

Harry accepted the dagger and flipped it in his hand to test the balance of the blade. He inclined his head to the aged Huntsmen before he headed into the cavern once more. As he expected, Balthazar didn't show any signs of rot. The pool of blood was tacky, more gel than actual fluid. The amber colored eyes were indeed still open, but Harry moved in and set to work severing the tissues inside the skull. He conjured two jars to contain the eyes. They were the size of a quaffle.

"It's clear!" Harry called out.

The sound of armor and cloth brushing against cloth sounded as the large group came in. The hunters began to murmur to themselves and even the Goblins looked surprised. Dumbledore stood stock frozen as he took in the sight of the massive serpent.

And Harry stood looking at the head with two jars of eyeballs sitting at his feet.

'You killed this boy?" The head huntsmen asked as he came up. He plucked one of the jars up and examined the eyes. "No sign of blindness, no spell residue. You killed it while it could still see you?"

Two other hunters examined the clean cut Harry had made through the thick skull, the brain inside neatly bisected. "How is it in such good condition still? It should have rotted some." The Russian Hunter asked.

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, I killed it without blinding it. As to the condition it's in, I can only guess. Feel how cold it is down here, the pond over by the back wall is capable of submerging the basilisk and I know it's frozen solid. It has to be below freezing down here. The Basilisk has basically been frozen the entire time down here. The blood is congealed some, but I'm sure it can still be sold."

The Scottish Hunter turned to look at Gringott. "This won't be a cheap trophy. The eyes alone are worth five hundred thousand galleons for their condition. Most would hit the Basilisk with a Conjunctivitis or other sort of spell to render its lethal gaze harmless. These eyes show none of that."

"Appraise the damned thing then. I'd like to know how much it's worth." Gringott barked out. The four hunters set to work, moving about and examining it. They poked, the prodded, they measured. They even inspected to see if it was female, though it was most assuredly male.

Turned out Basilisk eggs, while infertile, were something of a delicacy.

Dumbledore took to warming charms while the Goblins started a small fire. An hour passed with the four Hunters moving despite the cold, and Harry stayed completely stock still. One of the Hunters used a spell that pulled all the congealed blood from the floor and put it into a container. And still they worked.

As a team, they lifted the jaws carefully and the Head Huntsmen touched and pushed against the top of the mouth, declaring the venom sacs intact and full. Harry had cut the thing clean with both the Harvester and the Sword of Cratus. Soon the four went amongst themselves and spoke in hushed tones regarding not only the Basilisk but the shed skin from earlier.

Finally the head Huntsmen returned and looked not only to Harry but also to the Goblins. "Given the condition and the rarity of the beast, its estimated worth is One Hundred and Fifty Million Galleons."

Dumbledore choked on air, the goblins sputtered and the translator squawked. Even Gringott made a sound of surprise. Harry stared in disbelief at the Basilisk.

"Lack of deterioration, venom sacs are still full, eyes are intact, the blood is mostly still there. In all of my sixty years of being a hunter, I have never seen such a pristine kill. It was methodical and damned near surgical. One hundred and fifty million galleons, including the skin at the entrance. Pieced out over a decade or so, I'd say you could get three hundred million if you're smart."

Harry looked to the basilisk a moment before at the Hunters and then to the Goblins. He felt the Cowl switch to the Goblin Tongue. "Gringott, High King, perhaps a compromise can be made. One hundred and fifty million Galleons would be enough to bankrupt a small nation." It was… Harry didn't want to try and think about that much money. His current family holdings weren't worth that much, even if he were to liquidize _everything_. "Twenty Million Galleons put into my personal vault. Master Rotgut, the transfer from my trust vault to the personal vault will be discontinued. Another five split among the victims of the Basilisk attacks with another five million going to Hogwarts' Heirs Vault for use towards Hogwarts for the destruction of one of her defenders.

"One fang crafted into a dagger and doused in the venom and six sets of basilisk hide armor as well. That would use…" Harry glanced towards the Basilisk. "A fourth of the hide if you send it to Madam Arachnae."

Gringott looked to the High King. "It would be far easier to pay for him this way, my Liege." He said. He bowed his head in deference, knowing that it was entirely up to the High King.

"Fifteen Million Galleons. And you allow for pictures to be taken and to sign them of you with the bones of the Basilisk at your Quidditch World Cup. You'll get a five percent commission for the event. If the Goblins can sell their wares at the World Cup." Ragnarokk bartered. "And the other requests will be honored as well."

Twenty five million instead of thirty million along with probably close to a million Galleons worth of work and supplies coming from it. Harry thought on the offer for a moment. "Five percent of the event also going to Hogwarts' Vault." Harry said after a moment.

The High King nodded before he looked at the basilisk once more. Gringott spoke aloud and in English. "We have an accord then Lord Potter."

"Mr. Potter isn't a Lord." Dumbledore spoke from the side, almost a gut reaction. Harry and the Goblins looked over at him and he had the grace to look embarrassed. "I apologize, that was a reactionary response." He said.

Even Dumbledore could tell the Goblins held Harry in high esteem.

"Perhaps amongst your British Wizengamot, Lord Potter is not a Lord. But the High King has decreed him as such among the Goblins. Lord Potter is known as Serpentbane among some of the rank and file of the Goblins for the slaying of the Basilisk. Even we would be cautious of going up against such a creature, and to do so alone? Suicide. Then with the duel resulting in another man's death, defending the crowd as it may be, it resulted in Lord Potter being considered worthy of his title." Gringott said a bit icily. He did not particularly like humans from what Harry knew.

Flitwick didn't mind talking about his clan from time to time.

"Then there is the fact he has balls made of diamonds. He bartered, not cowed, but bartered with the High King of the Goblin Nation where but a word, my Liege could have Lord Potter's head upon a pike. Lord Potter holds the Goblin Nation in trust without being trusting. Call it a warrior's caution if you will. There is respect, perhaps even friendship one day. But Lord Potter has not cowed or bent himself over backwards for the Goblin Nation or Gringotts. This is why we consider him a Lord."

"I apologize again. I meant no disrespect." Dumbledore said.

Harry shook his head a bit. He could not say that it was fine for the Goblins, he simply did not care anymore. "Headmaster, if I may, why did you accompany us down here?"

Dumbledore sighed and looked for a moment much older. "I had to see it." He said. "Fifty years it has been under my crooked nose, and it was only thanks to a student that it did not kill again. I had to see it."

Harry watched his Headmaster for a time before he looked back to the Basilisk while two members of Ragnarokk's Honor guard worked to tie a portkey around the beast to send it off to Gringotts to be rendered down to parts.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Hannah drifted through the halls of Hogwarts. It was late at night, past curfew even. And yet, she drifted, beckoned by something unseen, like a rope tied about her waist. What could be calling her so? She avoided the Prefects without any issues despite the path she took into the dungeons.

She found herself staring at a stone archway with a slab of rock sealing it off. She was mesmerized by the glowing runic work on the archway, and her mind just couldn't comprehend it. She hadn't taken any Ancient Runes, despite starting to read about them. What was beyond this archway? What could be calling to her?

"Hannah?"

The voice sounded so far away as she tilted her head. Could she blast her way through it? Was she strong enough? The barrier had to be strong on the archway.

"Hannah?" The voice sounded sharper, more assertive.

"Go away, can't you see I'm doing something?" She asked. Even her own voice sounded so far away to her. She took a step towards the archway. Maybe she could… Maybe she could rot it. She was pestilence. She began to draw upon that power that Harry had showed her, a greenish miasma coming from her hand.

"Hannah!" The voice barked and the cold chill shooting down her spine snapped her out of it.

She turned to look at Harry who had a perturbed look on his face. She blinked a bit owlishly. "Harry?" She asked. "What are you doing down here? What am I doing down here?" she asked.

Harry stepped forward towards her. "Hannah, are you okay? I was following you when I felt your powers spike. And then you were going to attempt to rot a wall."

Hannah blinked before she looked where Harry was looking. "That's not a wall. It's an archway of some sort. It's completely sealed."

Harry blinked a moment and looked at archway. He shook his head. "I'm only seeing a wall Hannah. Smooth solid stone, just like the rest of the dungeons."

Hannah shook her head. She grabbed Harry's wrist, feeling him suddenly tense and dig his heels in, even as she pulled his arm up to touch the archway. "That is an archway with a stone slab sealing it." She said assertively.

Harry gave her a very annoyed look and she felt slightly sheepish. She had forgotten that Harry loathed being touched so aggressively. But he looked back at the archway and surprise filled his face. "A powerful concealment charm. A sort of precursor to a Notice-Me-Not Charm? It's old spell work."

"There's something behind there." Hannah said. "It's calling to me. Is that how I could see it?"

Harry glanced back to her and shrugged his shoulders. "I'll try to bring the ward down sealing the room." He said and put his hand flat upon the stone slab. Harry's much more considerable power began to fill the room. Hannah had no doubt that Harry was much more magically powerful than she was. Frost began to seep from his hand to cover the stone slab and the archway and she felt something primal connect to Harry.

And Harry pushed more power into it. "Hogwarts, she's fighting me in this." The School was fighting her Master of the Wards. Hannah furrowed her brows. What could possibly cause that to happen?

Hannah stepped up and placed the tip of her wand next to Harry's hand. She shivered at the cold, flinching slightly. "I know there's something behind this slab of rock." She said determined, pushing her own power into the ward. And she was determined to find out what was calling to her.

And as powerful as the ward was, Harry and Hannah's combined powers overwhelmed it. The sheer primal cosmic power of two Riders of the Apocalypse forced the ward to buckle and break under their combined powers. The stone slab shuddered before slowly sinking to the floor, stale air blowing over the two.

Harry brought his hand to his mouth and nose, holding a hand in front of Hannah. A thick layer of dust was covering the room. He brought his wand up and lit it up with a silent _Lumos_. Hannah followed him in, taking in the room they were in.

At least, until she looked down. Then she shrieked.

Inside the room was a skeleton in a mess of rags and dust. The room had been sealed, but that didn't stop bugs and rats that had lived in the room prior to its sealing from picking apart whoever the corpse belonged to. The rags must have been an elegant dress at some point, but Hannah was not going anywhere near the corpse.

That didn't stop Harry from entering and waving his wand over the corpse with a frown. "This has been here a while." He said.

"What gave that away?" Hannah asked in a panicked voice. "The fact it's a skeleton?!"

Harry gave her a flat look and she shrunk away at it. "I can feel its relative age. It's a perk of what I am. Tells me the sort of sacrifice I would need if I had to raise it. Easily over five hundred years. I'd need the Gauntlet or a human to raise it."

Harry squatted down and picked up a worn leather bound journal. Hannah didn't know how it survived. But Harry opened it up carefully and frowned. "Blood…" Harry said before glancing down to the skeleton. "The last few entries are written in blood."

Hannah stepped into the room, giving the skeleton a wide berth. "What do they say?" she asked.

"Give me a moment. The Cowl takes long for reading than speaking." Harry said. "And it is definitely not in our English."

Hannah frowned a moment. She was impatient, and she wanted to know who the skeleton belonged to and why she had been called there just then. Why not earlier?

"Salazar was right to be cautious, but I refuse to think we did the wrong thing by admitting all. An army is at our doorsteps, and I have already seen Godric fall. Rowena has given the order for the retreat, but my wounds keep me from continuing on with our students. I would just be dead weight to them, especially with my wand broken. Rowena looked particularly heartbroken when I told her to collapse the tunnel behind them.

"I still have work to do, and while I do not have my wand I still have my blood and my magic. Already the defenses of Hogwarts have started to come down upon the invaders. Though we have to abandon the castle, we will return within the month to reclaim Her. On the safe side though, I will seal this side of the escape path and bring up a ward that will keep it from being seen."

Harry glanced towards the skeleton at the same time Hannah did. They were undoubtedly looking at Helga Hufflepuff, and reading her final moments.

Harry turned a few pages and began to read aloud again. "I do not know how much time has passed. The shouts of battle have died down from down here in the dungeons, but that means nothing. I bandaged my wound, but it keeps bleeding, and I dare not use what precious air I have to start a fire and seal the wound. If the invaders are still about, I dare not open the room that is going to be my tomb. I am certain Rowena only sealed the entrance to the tunnel leading out. Intelligent as she is, she is not always clever. Salazar, I'm sure, would have collapsed the tunnel every fifty paces.

"I hope Godric's Gods have accepted him into Valhalla. I do not know if there is a place in the afterlife for Witches and Wizards, but if there is, Godric deserves it. Deserves it surrounded by a dozen women that will keep him in line like Rowena and more mead than he can drink. I hope wherever Salazar is that he gets the answers he is searching for. I considerably doubt that he will, for he was rather tight lipped with the questions he had to search for, but I can hope anyways. And I hope that Rowena, brightest of us all, will learn from the mistakes that have happened here today and change things for the better. I will write as long as consciousness allows."

Harry turned a few more pages, a solemn look on his face. He scanned the page a moment before looking to the other object on the floor. A quiver full of silver arrows. He started again, his voice wavering briefly before hardening. "I have taken to holding the quiver. Its magic is indescribable. So potent and powerful. But the rats have come, as have the various insects inside this cavern. But they do not attack like the last person I saw hold the quiver. I had been tempted to leave it behind in my personal chambers, to let the invaders find it and let its power consume them and let the rats feed. But I felt it was too dangerous, on the off chance that they would somehow manage to harness its power without the draw back. Better that it is buried with me.

"It is unlike anything I have ever seen. I dare not claim to know the enchantments upon it. The power is… it is far beyond Rowena and I. Our knowledge is lacking at best when compared to the magical properties of the quiver. But I do know that it is never empty and its rightful wielder will never lack for arrows. Even when we have dumped it out, in moments the arrows return to the quiver only to fall out once more and the cycle to repeat upon itself.

"My time grows near. My thoughts are… hazy. Blood still seeps from the wound. Was it an enchanted blade that pierced me? My thoughts turn to Salazar once more. My love, I should have told you. Even though you had a wife, I should have told you of my feelings. It is my only regret as I pass on."

Harry closed the journal a moment and bowed his head in respect. Hannah's eyes watered with tears, and they streaked down her cheeks. Helga Hufflepuff, her House's founder, had sacrificed herself to keep the enemy from following them.

Harry held his hand out over the skull of Helga Hufflepuff. "May you find peace Helga Hufflepuff." He said. "May the Gods you believe in, many or few, hold you close. And may your enemies scream in torturous agony for the rest of eternity. Your sacrifice was not in vain." Harry stood up and tucked the journal away. No doubt he'd be reading the entirety of it when he could.

Hannah glanced upon the ground to the full quiver of arrows. "It's mine, isn't it?" she asked. Her voice shook and cracked.

"I would gander so." Harry said softly. "It would make sense that you would have a quiver that would never run out of arrows. It would be… problematic if you could not support from afar."

Hannah shook even as she bent down and picked it up. The thick layer of dust seemed to slide right off of it as she picked it up, like the quiver was unaffected by the ravages of time. And perhaps it was. "Three down." She whispered. It left the mask and her bow. She looked to the skeleton of her House's Founder. "We can't just leave her here." She whispered.

"We won't." Harry said and stood up. He turned and began to walk away. "I'll go wake Dumbledore. You return to your dorm." From his pocket, he pulled out his invisibility cloak and held it out to her. The only artifact that could be used by someone other than a Rider without ill effects. "Take the Quiver to the Room of Requirements. Ask for where I have stashed War's effects."

Hannah took the cloak and quickly pulled it over her form. "Won't you get in trouble?"

"Only if I get caught before I reach Dumbledore. And I won't." Harry said confidently.

Hannah nodded and headed off to do precisely as Harry said.

_**-Scene Break-**_

At the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Harry tore the page about the quiver from the journal out and tossed it into a brazier to let it burn. He made a brief stop and took out some parchment, using the duplication charms he had learned. He then tucked the original away once more and gathered the copy up in his and continued on his way towards Dumbledore's office.

He knew the man would spot the copy. But Harry would just say he would keep the originals together and possibly present them to the school to be displayed. There was so much more to Helga's journal than the others. Like the others were her more public notes, and this was something much more private.

It did not take long for Harry to make it to Dumbledore's office and get the gargoyle to leap aside. Harry went up the winding steps to the office and entered. "Headmaster?" Harry called out firmly. He knew Dumbledore was likely asleep. It was close to one in the morning.

Shuffling was heard and eventually Dumbledore came out from his personal chambers. His glasses were askew on his face, his robes were unkempt and barely adjusted to be on right. His hair unkempt and sticking all over the place. "Harry?" He rasped out. Clearly Dumbledore was not much for waking up. "It's pleasant to see you in my office, but shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I found the resting place of Helga Hufflepuff." Harry said before turning on his heel sharply and walking back out. He was certain he had Dumbledore's attention. And as the silvery goat that was Dumbledore's Patronus shot past him, Harry knew he had the aged Headmaster's full attention.

Dumbledore was quick to catch up and soon walked in line with Harry. "Night time wandering again Mr. Potter?" he asked. His voice sounded more alert.

"Couldn't sleep, my homework is finished, and there's no books I want to read right now. I like exploring the castle.' Harry said as he kept leading the way.

"You should see Madam Pomfrey about not being able to sleep Mr. Potter, I wouldn't want you to start slipping in your classes because of sleep deprivation." Dumbledore said.

"I don't want to be dependent on potions. Besides, the silence and walking helps me think. Gets the blood flowing and oxygen going to my brain." Harry tapped the side of his head.

"There are no addictive properties to a sleeping draught Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said politely.

"No, but I quite like sleeping when I am able to." Harry said. "After a long night's sleep, I would be less inclined to wake up. And frankly, I'm as cranky as a dragon when waking up. Better for me to not have a Sleeping Draught which would have me sleep a solid eight hours and be lethargic in waking up. I'm usually up for three hours before the other students wake, better for them that way. I'd hate to end up roaring at one."

They were soon met by Sprout, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Slughorn. Each of the professors were quite comedically dressed in their sleeping garments and showing signs of exhaustion. "Albus, was her resting spot really found?" Sprout asked.

"We will most certainly see. Mr. Potter has been graciously leading me the past ten minutes." Dumbledore said.

They came to the escape route in the dungeon and Harry stood up by the head of the skeleton. With the destruction of the ward over the escape route, the illusion had failed as well and so he didn't have to escort each Professor in. There were some varying degrees of emotions, but Harry didn't look away from the skeleton. He was determining the best way to go about moving it to be better laid to rest.

"How do you know this is her Mr. Potter?" Sprout asked after a moment.

Harry pulled the copy of the journal out of the satchel sitting at his back. He held it out. "It's a copy of her journal. I have the original to go with the others. Once I'm sure it's the full set, I'll bring them out to rest with the Founders' Objects and make copies available in the library." Harry said a bit distracted.

Sprout made a noise as she thumbed through it. "I'm afraid I can't read it." She passed it over to Dumbledore. "I recognize some Latin, but I can't make everything out."

Harry's wand came out and a translation spell hit the journal before he tucked his wand away again.

Dumbledore glanced up at Harry. "You can read this in its original format Mr. Potter?" He asked.

"I have a gift from while I was touring my homes last year. It lets me speak and read foreign languages and understand them. It has about two dozen languages enchanted into it." A small white lie. It actually had a lot more than two dozen languages and could learn a lot more.

"I started towards the end and made inference based upon the context written. The last few pages caught my attention because they were written in blood instead of ink. Helga Hufflepuff received a fatal wound. I can't tell if it was the lack of oxygen in this room or if it was the wound that eventually killed her. But I thought it best that she be laid to rest properly." Harry politely excused himself and slipped from the chamber.

"Thank you Harry." Professor Sprout said as he left.

_**-**_**Chapter End-**

**A/N: And thus Hannah has the bow of Pestilence. Its many properties will be examined in the future.**


	53. Book 2: Chapter 26

_Last Time: Harry has harvested Balthazar the Basilisk for a considerable sum after selling it to Gringotts. Hannah was drawn to the final resting place of Helga Hufflepuff by the Quiver of Pestilence, its abilities as of yet unknown with the exception of giving its user an unlimited supply of arrows._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 26

Harry had met with his fellow Founders' Heirs back in January, the second week back. And already it had been such a long time, he felt. It was the middle of April, and just the week prior they had finally settled on a tentative ten year plan that would go into work, that they would constantly look at and get feedback from and look into.

All for the benefit of Hogwarts and her future.

Colin was understandably the most progressive and tried to offer ideas that he thought could work. The idea of a communal recreation room complete with Non-Magical games sounded good in theory, but Colin also wanted arcade games. Doable with the amount of money they had, not doable with the electronics.

Something about magic messing with the Ohms. Harry didn't have enough knowledge of the jargon to get through that particular article.

Instead the group decided on a communal recreation room where all four houses were welcome to join in.

Aria was the opposite side of the coin, being more traditionalist in her ideas. She wanted classes on some of the older Pureblood traditions like Samhain and Yule. The idea got through on the caveat that the class would be made an elective versus a mandatory class.

Cedric had more progressive leanings, but also understood the importance of traditions. A good balance between Colin and Aria. He, like Harry, wanted to be rid of the House Points system so that perhaps the barriers between the Houses could come tumbling down.

That had been unanimously agreed upon, even if they couldn't implement it right away.

Harry's own idea had been spectacularly shot down. He wanted an Enchanting class of course. But Hogwarts couldn't fathomably fit the bill, and there was no point in holding a class that could only be attended by the wealthiest students. Until such a time that actual gems were able to be gotten a hold of without the use of magic, they couldn't fathomably hold the class.

After all, Enchanting consumed a gem.

Harry could afford it, but someone like Colin couldn't. And Hogwarts couldn't afford to fit the bill in the long term either.

But just as they had many ideas they were willing to give up on or change parameters on, there were ideas that they were adamant about having happen and would not budge on.

Aria flat out demanded a class for the Non-Magically raised. A class about tradition, about politics, about various little things within the Magical World in Britain that the Non-Magically raised tended to trample on. Harry had… begrudgingly agreed. Forcing other people to learn their customs felt like it wouldn't change much, but there was a reason why someone like Hermione Granger came across as a bit… ignorant to some of the older Pure Bloods.

Cedric wanted to rebuild not only the flying classes but the Quidditch teams from the ground up. Two teams, one that consisted of the Houses and their members and a secondary set of team made up of a mix between the four houses. Those on the secondary team could assist their House in case a member was injured or sick, but it still allowed for more Quidditch. And, he wanted to get talent scouts from Professional teams to come to Hogwarts. And most importantly, he wanted to trash every broom for the Flying Lessons and get newer, safer models.

Models designed less for Quidditch and more for recreational flying.

Colin wanted more academic sort of classes. Classes the Non-Magical among them got before arriving at Hogwarts. A continuation of classes to help with grammar, essay writing, mathematics, and other such things. It would be easier for a Non-Magically raised to return to the Non-Magical world, if that was their choice, if they weren't having the education of an eleven year old.

Harry wanted what he called Non-Magical Relations. It would essentially replace Muggle Studies, update it, and become mandatory. A fair chunk of time was spent with the students having nothing to do. While the additional mandatory classes would be difficult, it was doable. But Harry cited that the Magically Raised among them were flat out ignorant of the Non-Magical world at best.

Just look at how some of them said Electricity. Cedric and Aria had never even drank a Cola despite being well into their teens.

Because of the nature of Harry's idea and Aria's idea, they decided to also offer a chance to 'opt out' by way of testing. If the student could pass with at least Exceeds Expectations, then they did not have to take the class. But it was dangerous for both sides of the coin to not have the classes. It would result in war someday.

A war Magical Britain would lose, badly.

All it would take would be a scorned Non-Magically raised to be part of the Royal Air Force and driving a missile right into Hogwarts' Great Hall while school was in session. It was a chilling thought that Harry did not share with the others, just to let them keep their illusions.

All of that in mind, Harry was not surprised when the doors to the Great Hall were flung open and in walked several irate parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Harry wiped his mouth with his napkin as he saw them make their way to Dumbledore, led by Dowager Augusta Longbottom.

And they all had a particular piece of parchment in hand.

"Albus, what is the meaning of this?" She asked as Dumbledore rose from his seat to greet them.

Harry stood up and stepped towards the Head Table. "That was not sent by the Headmaster. It was sent by the Four Heirs. The wax seal bears the indention of all four of our Signet Rings." Harry held his up, showing the quarter of Hogwarts' Coat of Arms that stood for Slytherin.

"You have a lot of gall pulling this boy." Someone said off to the side. "I'll see you expelled."

"You think this is a joke?" Harry asked. "Look at the seal. Really look at it. Seamlessly mixed four different colored waxes. Each indention has a different depth. The Four Heirs have been reunited, Governor. And the magic that binds the rings lets the wax meld together seamlessly to show a united front. And no one but the Heirs can use the rings in that manner. The rings would sever the finger of anyone that's not an Heir." Harry glared at the man. He recognized him as Lord Parkinson, Pansy's Grandfather.

"Then what is this about Heir Slytherin?" the Dowager was quick to ask. It was clear she was trying to keep the meeting on tracks.

"Change. Now that you're here, I can address everyone and tell them the changes coming. Please, go have a seat amongst the students." Harry glanced to the Professors. "If the Professors wouldn't mind joining them, I would appreciate it. I'd rather not be looking over my shoulder constantly to address everyone."

Dumbledore's eyes looked the most calculating but soon he stood up and walked around the table, going to sit with the Gryffindors. Following his example, the other teachers went to sit amongst the students and soon the Governors did as well.

Harry inhaled slightly and flexed his fingers, squeezing and releasing. "Service." He called politely. A pop announced the House Elf. "A podium and a glass of water, please." Harry said. The House Elf popped out.

Harry began to do some deep breathing exercises. All eyes were on him and he could hear the muttering. No doubt a few were calling him crazy. He knew he had requested the Board of Governors just after lunch on that day, but it didn't make it any easier. He had to psych himself up for Public Speaking.

But it was best he do it. Imagine poor Colin up there.

A second pop and a wooden pedestal was put down in the center of the front of the room. A glass of water came next and he took a quick drink before setting the water on the pedestal. He looked out over the room, the murmurs coming in a bit louder.

The _Sonorous _Charm would help amplify his voice, but he didn't need it. He didn't want to use it. And if he was honest, he didn't know how to use it.

"I would like to welcome our Guests to Hogwarts. Everyone, the Board of Governors who has done a magnanimous job at caring for Hogwarts. For that, you have my thanks." Harry applauded and there was a smattering of applause from the room.

It took him a few minutes to get the noise to die back down as he held his hand up for general silence. "I am proud to declare that the Founders' Heirs have been found and reunited once more. And we are going to work diligently to bring Hogwarts up to the World Class educational facility it once was." He declared. There was more applause at that. It was more vigorous than before, but it still wasn't everyone. He could still see people whispering.

Lord Parkinson stood up and cleared his throat. "Then where are the other Heirs, Heir Slytherin?" he asked.

"They have chosen to remain anonymous. No doubt there are those among you who have touted the claim of being part of the Founders' families. No doubt many of you feel like your birthright has been wrenched away. I assure you, my work to find the other three is solid and has had two groups of experts insure the results are accurate within a ninety-five percent margin. When the other three put their Signet Rings on without harm to them, my work was validated. I will not let someone harm the other three Heirs and jeopardize what we are hoping to accomplish!"

"And, Heir Slytherin, if I may, what are you hoping to accomplish?" Dumbledore asked after standing up. It forced Lord Parkinson to sit down if nothing else.

"Change!"

Harry was surprised to see the sandy blonde mop that was Colin's head come up. The First Year Gryffindor moved to stand up with Harry and offered a wry grin. "Sorry Harry, I can't let you stand this alone. That's cowardly." Colin turned to face the crowd. "I am Colin Creevy, and I am Heir Gryffindor." He said. His tone was a bit shaky, but he mustered his courage nicely.

Cedric stood up from his spot. "And I am Heir Hufflepuff." He declared before he made his way towards the front. He stood behind Colin and clasped his hand on Colin's shoulder, giving it a good shake. "You're right Colin." He turned to face the crowd. "I am Cedric Diggory and I am Heir Hufflepuff." He reiterated.

"Boys." Came the exasperated sound as Aria made her way forward. "You two have made a right mess of Harry's fancy speech." She stood behind Harry slightly. "I am Aria MacNair, and I am Heir Ravenclaw." She turned to look at Harry. "And they're right, we're right behind you. You don't have to do this alone."

Harry shook his head, but a wry grin was on his face. "I suppose you're right." He cleared his throat and slipped his wand out to let off a canon blast of air to make the noise levels die down. No way was he going to get it to come down anyways. "We are going to accomplish change." There could be no doubts anymore. No hiding, no cowering. They had to face forward with chin high and shoulders ready to bear the burden of responsibility.

Harry started once more after Dumbledore sat himself down once more, looking at the surprise unified front. "This meeting is to inform everyone how change will come and to outline the ten year plan we have decided on and will continue to work as the years come. Things may seem rough at the start, but we are the family of Hogwarts." Harry said. "We are an elite class of our own. We should never have started to slide into this entropic down spiral that will lead to our civilization's demise!"

Harry took a drink of his water and stepped forward a bit more. Aria's presence behind him unnerved him, but then he didn't particularly like people behind him as it stood. "We are dying slowly. It is with great distress that I say that. In five generations we could see Magical Britain dead due to the stagnation and ignorance that has run rampant because of the beliefs and actions of two megalomaniacs.

"So, we plan to first change Hogwarts. Our future, the future of Magical Britain, is shaped here every single day. We must shape it for the better. And with that in mind comes the very first, and very immediate change to Hogwarts." Harry scanned the room. He could see more and more faces looking attentive. If some people didn't understand his words, they asked around to get an explanation.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, as of this moment, you're fired!" Harry barked out, causing the blonde to jump. Harry reached out with his hand and slowly closed it. He could feel the wards shut down on Lockhart. "And I, no _we, _will be pressing charges for your fraudulence. The Aurors have been alerted and will be here momentarily. You cannot leave until they get here."

Lockhart fell into a dead faint.

Harry briefly looked over his shoulder. "Would any of you like to go next or am I doing this entire thing?"

Aria waved her hand at Harry. "We don't have your flair. You're doing just fine without us."

Harry inclined his head. Never let it be said he didn't try to share the responsibility… er 'Joy' of being center of attention. He returned to looking at the crowd.

"As magnanimous as the Board of Governors has been in their careful upkeep of Hogwarts and her many responsibilities, the Board of Governors is hereby dissolved until such a time as that the Four Heirs are no longer together." Harry said. There was some shouting but he let it happen for about a minute before he fired off another canon blast from his wand to make them be quiet. "We would just be stepping on the opposite group's toes and frankly, we don't need the Board of Governors. We have a better understanding of the day to day needs of Hogwarts. We are here nine months out of the year, unlike the Board of Governors. At this point, please sit down and be quiet or leave. If you're unwilling to do either, I'll make you leave." Harry said firmly. He would not be bulldozed by these people.

Not when he had three more reasons to be the mighty mountain.

Harry inhaled a bit more. He knew this next one would be less popular among the staff. "It has come to my attention and I have brought it up with the other Heirs, but our staff is stretched too thin in their duties. So, it is in that regard, we have decided no member of the staff will have more than one title unless associated with a voluntary club. Professor Minerva McGonagall comes to mind. She is Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and the Transfiguration Professor. Respectfully, pick one." Harry heard a gasp run through the Gryffindor House.

"No one is doubting your abilities in any one given capacity. But stretching yourself among several capacities makes it difficult to give full focus to the other. We will be working through the rest of the school year and part of the summer to interview qualified individuals for whatever posts we have missing and open." Harry said firmly. "We want the students to be able to go to their Head of House whenever necessary and be able to actually have the Head of House's full attention for whatever matter ails the student."

There were a few murmurs of understanding and even acceptance. And despite McGonagall being singled out as a prime candidate, she had a smile on her face like she fully endorsed the idea.

"As of next year, two courses will be made mandatory to the Non-Magically raised and those Magically raised. One course each that they will be able to instead test of. It is abundantly clear with each passing year there is a greater divide between the two groups that we are hoping to bridge. For the Non-Magically raised, these classes will inform you of traditions long held by the Magically Raised, politics that will affect you, and various other little things. This class will go through O.W.L. year like the rest of the mandatory classes. For those Magically Raised, you will be going through Non-Magical Relations, teaching you about the other side of the coin. How to blend in with the Non-Magical so you do not draw attention to yourself. Robes are not proper wear in Non-Magical London. The ICW's laws on the Stature of Secrecy must be maintained."

Harry was quiet for a moment. "We cannot scorn our Non-Magical kin because of the powers we have been gifted with. All it would take is a Non-Magically raised Witch or Wizard going back to the Non-Magical World and we could be doomed even faster. We cannot afford war with the Non-Magical world. We would lose, badly." Harry's tone was a little more somber at the fact.

Conflicts went through his mind and their violent endings or drawn to a stalemate. He didn't want to see his peers, his friends go through that.

Harry squared his shoulders. "Divination will be dropped as an elective. As I have found out, you either have the Sight of a Seer or you do not. If it is the latter, there is no point in attempting to teach you Divination. If it is the former, Professor Trelawney can assist you in controlling it. There is no need to waste everyone's time with the class. Muggle Studies will also no longer be offered. That is what Non-Magical Relations will replace, and frankly Muggle Studies is abhorrently behind in the times. About a hundred years behind, at least.

"Instead, two classes will return to the curriculum of Hogwarts. Alchemy and Conjuring. The first two of many classes. They will be electives. I already have a few ideas in mind for Professors of both schools of Magic. I apologize to the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. Level students, you will not have the chance to take the classes. You may seek the Professors out for help in self-study. Third and Fourth years will be able to take the class, but understand if you're going into your fourth and fifth years, you will have your work cut out for you to catch up. Alchemy and Conjuring are not easy classes. But I believe in the students of Hogwarts."

Dumbledore rose to his feet once more and Harry gave him his attention. "If I may, Heir Slytherin, how will these additional classes and staff be paid for?"

"At the time of Gringotts' Founding, the Four Heirs had been around then and they started a vault that could only be access by all four Heirs. Sixty percent of the tuition of every student every year is put into this vault with an interest rate of two point seven five percent." Harry explained. "Additionally, after the harvest of the Basilisk and the subsequent sale to Gringotts, an additional five million galleons was placed in this vault." Harry notably did not mention how much was put into his vault or how little of the Basilisk's actual worth he received. "This will be enough funds to handle the funding for the various projects we have in mind, as well as paying for new staff members. It should hold out until such a time as the students of Hogwarts increases once more to the levels it was even one hundred years ago."

Dumbledore returned to his seat, seemingly pleased with the answer.

"At the end of next year, Hogwarts will be vacated so that it may be renovated. This includes the staff." Harry said and he saw some looks about. "The last time Hogwarts was renovated was for the addition of plumping. And while effective, I would like more additions and safe guards. Escape tunnels will be reopened and subsequently warded. Please do not try to leave the castle using these." Harry pointedly looked at the Gryffindor table where the Weasley Twins were doing their best to not look suspicious. "Triggering these wards will activate an alert that Hogwarts is under attack. The tunnels are meant to be that, escape tunnels."

Harry glanced over the crowd. His words had done some good, he thought. "We will be taking suggestions and comments for in the future. I will set up an office where everyone can go to leave their thoughts. A full list of changes and the release date of those changes will be made available upon request. Please understand that these charges will be for the benefit of our society. Only through understanding can we better ourselves and our society. This is a work in progress and we are attempting to correct decades, even a hundred years' worth of stagnation." Harry said.

Harry turned to the other three. "Anything you want to add?" he asked.

The other three shook their heads and Harry turned to face the crowd once more. "Thank you all for your time, patience, and understanding. Please hold your questions, if you believe you will forget, write them down and bring them to my office once we have it set up. I will be more than happy to answer any question once I can properly give it the attention it deserves."

Harry went to the Ravenclaw table to grab his bag and then walked promptly from the Great Hall. There was nothing more to say.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Remus looked at the letter upon his desk once more. He had thought he would never see that crisp hand writing again, and yet there it was. Looping upon the parchment delivered just that morning by a regal looking Eagle Owl. Logic kept telling him that he shouldn't have open it.

His heart demanded that he had.

The words seemed sincere enough. He could practically see in his mind the nervous way that she had paced before penning the words. He knew for a fact that there was no way that she just sat down and penned them. Every word was always carefully weighed and measured before being decided on. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place.

Perhaps a bit of something that he might never have had.

Being a werewolf for so long, he was so used to instinct driving him. He had tempered it with logic and patience, but instinct still made demands. He would never be allowed to carefully measure everything the way she had. Less so because of his Marauder days.

James or Sirius would get in trouble and it was up to him to bail them out or back them up. There was never time to just think and measure.

If she was anything like she used to be, she would despise him being late. And she would come to Hogwarts herself to drag him to dinner if she felt it necessary, especially if he stood her up. His logic was saying to hell with it and to stay there. That he wouldn't let her into his office or into his classroom.

His heart begged him to go. Such a lurching in his heart to go.

He had all but forgotten the scent upon the parchment. Such a sweet, delectable scent. He remembered times where he had it cling to him and his clothes. It had helped him through some of his transformations, more so than James or Sirius or Peter joining him.

She was Hell in high heels.

And sweet merciful Merlin, she still affected him like nobody's business.

He couldn't bring it to any of his normal confidants either. Sirius would tease him mercilessly, Peter was dead to him, James was dead, Lily was dead, and Albus… well Remus wasn't exactly pleased with every decision Albus had made in the past decade. He wasn't sure if the man was still considered his confidant.

He didn't quite alienate Albus yet, but he probably told him less.

Remus sighed and eventually checked himself in the mirror. He knew what he had already picked. He had decided to go. He was already dressed for it as well. And not in one of his usual dress robes that he wore while teaching History of Magic.

Instead, Remus wore a pair of grey dress robes. Grey slacks, a grey top, and even a vest with a pocket watch. He also wore a pair of highly polished dress shoes. It was the nicest thing he wore. And he still couldn't believe it, every time that he looked in his wardrobe, he couldn't believe it.

Harry had said Madam Arachnae wouldn't discriminate. He hadn't been wrong. Plus with his teacher's salary, he was actually able to buy a nice set of dress robes.

He tried to do something about his hair, but he had been running his hand through it and pulling at it. He just had such difficulty with her wanting to meet him! Harry's announcement for change had been a week prior and he was still getting over how thoroughly thought out it was. He had no doubt that Harry had intelligence, but the planning required for a ten year plan but to leave it flexible enough to change as needed…

Baffling to the werewolf.

He had difficulty sometimes planning ten months in advance, nonetheless ten years.

He grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder from his mantle and tossed it into the fireplace. Last chance, he could back out and just… Do what? Damn his heart. He spoke the address and stepped into the flames, coming roaring out to a fine parlor.

"_He kept his motor clean/ He was the best damn man that, I ever seen!"_

Walking into hearing AC/DC playing was not exactly something that Remus had fully expected. But it made him smile. He remembered that Led Zepplin Concert. He remembered the night of passion with his Perfect Storm. Hearing the woman sing it in her own way was just even better and had him walking away from the fire place. His wand came out and he cleaned the ash off his shoulders.

"_He had the sightless eyes telling me no lies/ knocking me out with those American thighs/ taking more than his share/ He had me fighting for air/He told me to come but I was already there!"_

Remus touched the doorknob where the music was coming from and inhaled. Boldly, he stepped through. He had to confront Narcissa Malfoy, it had been years but he had to do it. God, had it almost been twenty years? He choked at what he saw though and stood stock frozen.

Narcissa had aged well. Like a fine wine, her age had done her justice whereas age had hit Remus with a sledge hammer. He knew he had some stress lines on his face, yet Narcissa was just as beautiful as ever, just as fiery as ever.

She wore a tight leather corset that squeezed her generous chest and pushed it up. A pair of low rise leather pants hugged her shapely hips and legs. Remus felt entire too overdressed for this meeting. Especially as every time her hips swayed as she danced and sang to the music caused a bit of her mid-drift to show off. Despite having had a child, Narcissa had clearly stayed in shape, having a starting of a six pack showing. And the way she teased her long blonde hair, it had Remus frozen.

And she threw him one of the sexiest smiles he had ever seen from the woman.

She began to walk towards him, stalking really. She exaggerated every step, throwing one booted foot over the other to make the heels clack sharply even over the record playing. Her scent hit Remus like a truck. "You… are entirely too dressed." She said. Her hands unbuttoned the vest he was wearing and pushed it off his chest. "I believe I said a casual dinner."

"Ciss- Nar- Ms. Malfoy." Remus tripped over what he wanted to call her twice. He had to not go there. He couldn't go there again.

Narcissa silenced him with a finger to his lips. Despite standing several inches over the rather short blonde woman, she still had such an intimidating aura to her. "Remus, sweetie, you talk entirely too much. Quit over thinking. Don't stand there and tell me why you can't, why you shouldn't. I put up with Lucius for almost twenty years. Letting him into my body was a revolting experience. I am about eighty percent certain that Lucius was batting for the other team and not on the pitching side. My aunt, vile piece of work she was, threatened my dear older sister if I did not comply and Andi was already happily married to Theodore Tonks. I was not going to let that woman break that up."

Remus growled when she grabbed his shirt and quite readily ripped it open, not even taking the time to unbutton the buttons. "Damn it woman, are you trying to piss me off?!" He snarled.

Narcissa pressed her body into his and leaned up to his ear. "Promise Remus." She raised a leg to press against his groin. "If memory served, you were at your roughest and most dominating when you were pissed off." She whispered before flicking her tongue against his ear.

Remus growled again and his head felt hazy. His eyes unfocused. His heart was racing and he could feel his desire stirring for the first time in a very, _very _long time. Despite the both of them being in their early forties, Narcissa still looked like a young thirty something. And he could smell her arousal. His teeth ground against one another.

Narcissa turned his head so that he looked into her blue eyes. "Listen to me Remus, and listen well. I still love you." She kissed his lips.

Remus growled into the kiss and leaned into it. Before he knew it, he was pushed against a wall and being kissed more vigorously. The blonde minx in his arms had both hands against his chest. Then she drew back, licking her lips. "Shame on you Remus, letting that nicely toned body go." She rubbed his chest. He had been neglecting working out for a while. "I'll have to get you back to snuff, you spoiled me with a six hour marathon and I want my repeat performance."

Remus growled again. "Damn it woman, I'll show you up to snuff." He moved to scoop her up onto his shoulder but she just danced away, laughing before leading him off with swinging hips.

Remus had no idea what he had expected. But with a low growl, one of lustful hunting nature, he went off after the blonde woman.

-**End Chapter-**

**A/N: So yeah… There's that. Harry make plans to change Hogwarts vastly and Remus… well let's be honest, who didn't expect Narcissa's lover to be Remus? Let's just say everyone's favorite mellow wolf will be getting even mellower.**

**And before anyone gets on me about that last part, that's what I like to call a conclusion. One of those little loose ends just got tied into a nice and neat knot. Remus is fucking Narcissa and Draco will likely end up with a half-brother before the end of the school year.**

**EDIT: Before I get called out on this, I took some artistic liberty with the Marauders' ages. The wiki says they were born in 1960. I pushed it back to around 1957. Narcissa was born in 1955. Graduated from Hogwarts in '72. The Led Zepplin concert they went to was in 1973. Their sexual trysts began winter of '71 and continued through the rest of Narcissa's last year and onward. Remus would have been around 15. Few months prior at worst. Not unheard of. Not common, but not unheard of.**


	54. Book 2: Chapter 27

_**EDIT: If you do not read to the end where the bullshit of this chapter is explained, do not rant about the bullshit please. Thank you.**_

_Last Time: Harry and the other Founders, in a surprising show of solidarity, give a brief speech about the changes that are coming to Hogwarts. Remus has gone to see Narcissa and the woman has reignited their passionate relationship once more._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 27

Harry went through a few warm-up stretches as Hannah finished getting ready. He looked over to the blonde rider of the White Steed. Just a few days ago, she got a feeling for the other two artifacts. A feeling that was in the same location. Using a map of the world, they were able to pinpoint the location to deep inside the Black Forest of Germany.

It was the last weekend of May and just before their Final Exams, and Harry couldn't help but feel paranoid about the trip. It felt… too convenient. Too easy. But they couldn't afford to not check it out, to not go attempt to find the artifacts.

They were both loaded down for the worst.

Harry himself was in full Death Regalia. And that included his heavy, heavy Adamantine Armor that the Goblins had finished for him. He had spent the past month and a half in the Room of Requirement every single moment of free time. He had practiced running, dodging, jumping until he could do so just as easily as before. This had increased his appetite and his body mass

The armor was a dark almost blackish gray with actual literal lines of black running through it. It usually started as another metal band connected to the Dominion Gauntlet and would then spread out away from the gauntlet to cover Harry's body. A lot of careful enchanting had gone into the armor so that it would automatically resize itself as Harry got older, and bigger, but also so that it would be receptive to the next Pale Rider as well.

The thick plates covered Harry from shoulder to booted toes. He had been taken aside by Forge Master Giblet and had spent quite a while learning how to clean and properly polish the metal armor. It would not do for it to fall into disrepair because of Harry's negligence. The entire armor would have to be rebuilt from scratch, and the bill to fit it would not be cheap.

The materials alone were twenty thousand Galleons.

The enchantments on it were not just for resizing but also for movement. It allowed the metal to move like liquid. Harry had additionally spent some time in full regalia working with the Harvester. His range of movement was just slightly inhibited by the armor, but it was a sacrifice that Harry was willing to make. The additional protection would likely save his life.

Tucked inside of his boot inside a special sheath was his very dangerous new knife. The basilisk fang had not been easy to craft into a dagger, even a ceremonial one. But the High King had taken his words to heart and his people had forged Harry a usable dagger that was capable of prolonged combat. It was doused in the venom so that the hot metal absorbed some of that properties. Harry hadn't cut anything with it, but it had a greenish black glow to it whenever he held it out.

Hannah was equally as dressed. Her usual pigtails were brushed out and pulled back into a pony tail. She wore her shooter's gloves over her hands and the cloak Plague had brought her over her shoulders. The silver quiver stuck out from under the cloak, its many fine arrows ready to be drawn. Harry had also gotten her a basic bow and short sword, things that would let her defend herself.

Unfortunately the steel would mean little, but it would help.

She was dressed in a pair of brown tights with a green blouse. The idea was for some camoflauge in the event that Harry needed her to hide. They couldn't afford for her to be caught flatfooted against a persuing enemy. Harry was armored, heavy as it was.

He could take her hits while she got away.

"You ready?" Harry asked her. It was still early in the morning. They would be gone until at least noon.

Hannah finished her stretches and nodded. She ran a finger over her bow string. While she was no marksmen, she could at least use it with a surprising level of accuracy. She headed over to the white Nundu that had been watching them prepare and she climbed onto his back before Plague stood up.

Harry mounted Despair and rubbed his mount's neck briefly. "Lead on Hannah, we'll follow." Despair could follow Plague easier than the White Steed could follow the Pale One.

Susan got up from her chair in the center of the room. "You guys be safe, okay?" she asked the pair.

Harry looked to the redhead. "As safe as can be. Dust!" The crow landed on Harry's shoulder.

Plague gave out a bellowing roar before rushing forward and vanishing in electric blue flames. Harry felt Despair accelerate beneath him and soon they were off, a burst of acidic green flames signaling their departure. They reappeared and disappeared over and over, using short jumps.

Now was not the time to introduce Hannah to the In-Between.

They arrived at the Black Forest and Plague crashed through a fallen log, crushing twigs and pine needles and pine cones underneath his massive paws. Slowly he circled as Harry arrived on the back of Despair. Despair's legs came up to slash briefly at the air before it settled down.

Harry leapt from his mount and watched as Hannah eased off of hers as well. From here, they would be going on foot. Again, they couldn't risk the steeds in combat.

Plague was capable. Strong with powerful magical resistance, it could even take minor firearms to his body without any problems. The White Nundu however lacked one thing that Despair had. In exchange for such powerful defenses, Plague was not the fastest of the Mounts. In fact, only Disaster was slower.

But Despair, for all of his speed and swiftness, his body was not as well defended. Fire arms were particularly harmful to the Thestral. And if it took a round to the leg, it would be out of commission for a while. It would have difficulty just getting the speed to take to the air. So Harry had to be particularly careful of his steed.

Harry thrust his hand out and Dust took to the air, beginning to circle around in the skies above. Harry watched the crow for a moment before he turned to look at Hannah. "You lead, I'll follow. Dust is on reconnaissance."

Hannah nodded before she got a feel for where they were and what direction they needed to be headed in before she started to walk, climbing over fallen trees and through bushes. Harry followed behind her, frowning slightly. His armor made slight sound as he walked, not something that he wanted. And as he looked behind him, he also left footprints in the moist soil.

He pulsed his magic into the invisibility cloak and the footprints began to disappear as the cloak trailed behind him. His wand came out and he cast a silencing spell upon his armor to keep it from making as much sound.

He turned his gaze back to Hannah a moment, thinking. The Cloak of Pestilence she wore around her shoulders allowed her to blend in with the browns and grays of the bark and dirt of the forest. The feathers of the Strigoii acted nicely as camoflauge, and as they found out, could shapeshift into the feathers of birds native to the region so that Hannah could better blend in. The Cloak would also render her scentless, letting her hide from tracking hounds.

Not even a werewolf would be able to hunt her.

She kept one hand on the short sword that came down to just past her knee. They both still had growing up to do, but that was why Harry gave her the short sword. It would be better to keep it short and usable. But Harry was glad to see his teaching hadn't been for nothing. Her keeping a grip on the sword kept it from bouncing and rattling around. She did the same with the bow strapped over her shoulder, keeping one hand on it while she moved unless she needed a hand to get over a fallen log.

Harry's gaze went to the gloves. A pair of thick shooter's gloves that had been finely crafted from the hide of a Quetzacoatl subspecies named the Piltzintecuhtli. The Aztecs had named the feathered serpent like creatures as Gods, worshipped them as such. High Priests of the Aztec empire had almost always been Parslemouths to speak to their Gods.

But the Piltzintecuhtli was special among the subspecies. It was often vaunted for its impressive healing abilities. It was not as potent as Phoenix tears, but getting a Phoenix to cry was often an exercise in futility. But the venom milked from a Piltzintecuhtli could work as an antidote to most venomous snakes. The feathers, once ground and mixed with water into a paste, could heal a gash made that required stitches in hours compared to days. The serpent was hunted almost to extinction once the Conquistadors invaded the Aztec Empire.

And Hannah's gloves were most impressive. They would steady her hands, there would be no shaking and that was precisely what they needed for both an archer and a Healer. They would remain sterile, no matter how much blood she got on them while working on a patient, and they would even absorb the blood. They could also be used to cast some minor hallucinations.

In Harry's mind they were quite impressive gloves.

Hannah stopped after a long while, breathing a bit and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. They had been moving at her pace for the last two hours or so and Harry didn't mind the break. He slowed his own breathing. The armor was quite heavy actually.

"And you do all this for fun?" Hannah asked, looking back at him.

Harry smiled a bit at that. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, he was actually quite at peace in the middle of the forest. "More or less. I made it fun for myself." Harry explained. "This way I can keep enjoying it, keep pushing myself in it." He shrugged his shoulders a bit.

It had once been a means of escape, but then he genuinely enjoyed the feeling of his blood pumping and his adrenaline flowing.

A loud caw made Harry look skyward. He watched as Dust burst into murder of smaller crows breaking off in dozens of separate directions. "Dust!" He called out, even as the Crow shot off. Many of the smaller crows were taken down in an instant.

Harry looked skyward and he looked to Hannah. "Down and don't move!" he barked out before he got under a tree that was propped up slightly by the stump. He pulled his hood up over his head and bundled up with the invisibility cloak.

He disappeared in an instant and closed his eyes.

He looked through Dust's eyes, seeing the crow flying away. He pushed through to Dust's memories and witnessed the bolt of energy that had struck Dust. It was only Dust's defensive technique that had saved the crow's life. But it was severely weakened, and already enabling the escape plan. Dust was to fly away as far as it could go and regain its energy.

It took Harry a bit to find the source of the bolt of energy in the memories and when he did his heart beat faster. He forced himself to focus on the now, and he felt out for life energy. He could feel Hannah still as could be a distance away from him. He felt deer, owls, rabbits, even wolves. He then felt Them.

Their antithesis.

'_Go away, Go away, Go away,' _Harry repeated it in his mind like a chant. They were so close. Harry had made sure to stay under the radar. He had made sure that Harry Potter could not be connected to Death by the likes of them.

He reached down for the basilisk fang blade and unsheathed it slowly. Its glow was hidden by his invisibility cloak, but he was still worried. He felt cold, he felt clammy. Nausea rolled through his stomach. And he couldn't suppress it. He couldn't turn that to anger.

Fear.

It gripped his heart. It made him, Death of the Apocalypse, hesitate and hide. But he knew he was not ready, that Hannah wasn't ready. Those abominations of humans were capable of taking a lot of damage. It was not like facing one from Beyond the Veil of Death, it was worse.

He could feel them getting closer. A hundred meters. Ninety. Eighty. Seventy. His heart beat faster as the minutes ticked by and they kept getting closer. Fifty meters. Forty. Thirty.

Harry held his breath and looked over to where he could feel them coming from. He fought to suppress his incredible magical power. He barely kept the Harvester from rattling against the Dominion Gauntlet. He wanted then to go away. He needed them to go away.

Twenty meters. They stopped a mere twenty meters away. Harry could have sprinted the distance in seconds. But he dared not move. He dared not give his position away. He kept his mental chant going. He didn't know if Hannah could feel them, but he did know he had not expected them on this trip and as such could not have prepared her for them.

He held his breath as long as he could. But eventually… twenty five meters, thirty, thirty five. Harry felt the tenseness in his shoulders begin to relax. Forty five. He waited until they were at the edge of his range of two hundred meters before he rolled out from under the fallen tree and got up, his invisibility dropping.

Hannah slowly moved to join him and she looked at him. There was a look of concern on her face, not that he blamed her. He had after all just forced her to the ground and told her to not move. There was a rattling to his armor and Harry realized he was shaking. He looked at his unsteady hands and grabbed both of them in each other. He breathed, trying to calm his surge of adrenaline. Fight or flight was in full effect and he desperately had wanted to fly.

"Harry?" Hannah asked him.

"I'm sorry." Harry said a bit shakily. He squeezed his hands a bit more.

"What's going on?" She asked him. "You're scaring me."

"And scared you should be. I would have never thought they were here in the Black Forest, Hannah, or else we would have never come here. We are not ready to take them on. Maybe one, but two? No… no, no… we're not ready for two." Harry took a moment to sit down on the tree he had taken refuge under.

"Who are they?" she asked, sitting beside him.

Harry inhaled. "Understand this, Hannah, at the end of the day you and I are both human. War and Famine will still be human. To the marrow of our bones, we are human. Semi-cosmic powers of destruction aside, we are human with human limits."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, feeling the metal tug but reveling in the pain. It let him know he was still alive. "I could kill thousands, sacrifice virgins, and rip fetuses from their womb all in the pursuit of power. I could make a deal with a Demon and pay in the blood of innocents to change the fact that I am human. But I won't. I can do some really, really evil things Hannah. I could kill a man, absorb his soul and gain his knowledge and his remaining life span. Several of the previous Pale Riders have done that, it's how I know so much. We pass our memories, our experiences down through the Harvester to the next Pale Rider so that they too can benefit from our collective knowledge.

"But I am still human."

Hannah glanced in the direction Harry was looking at. "And they're not?" she whispered.

"They wear a human guise, but no… no they don't. They are our Antithesis." Harry evened his breathing out. He could feel his heart beat slowing down once it realized they were no longer in as much pressing danger.

"The year was 1096. During the First Crusade, the Four Riders of the Apocalypse were in Jerusalem at the time. War… War took the battlefield, a defender of Jerusalem because that was where he had been Born. The other three joined him. Because of the Four Riders, the Crusaders suffered loss after loss at the walls of Jerusalem. That's when Pope Urban II started a secret Order within the Vatican to combat the Four Riders.

"Magically engineered, they can no longer be called human. Cut a limb off a human, cut a limb off me or you, and there's a good chance we'll die. Even greater without medically attention. Cut a limb off one of Them?" Harry shook his head. "They'll either reattach it or grow it back, whichever needs done. I don't know if they have remained the same four throughout the years or not. But they are Justice, Victory, Truth, and Forgiveness. They were equipped with Holy weapons and armor. Case in point, Justice, the Antithesis to Death was granted the Blade of Justice, the weapon cast away by the Archangel of Justice when they left Heaven."

"Why didn't the Riders beat them at Jerusalem?' Hannah asked. "Surely they were more used to their powers and equipment at the time."

Harry shook his head. "It was a death match between eight basically super soldiers. And the Four Aspects, as they are called, had plenty of time to get used to what their bodies could do and take. They had been granted weapons, armor, and magic to boost their own abilities to match what the Four Riders could do. And here's the kicker, the Riders at the time didn't have their Full Regalia. In Full Regalia, I could fight Justice to a stalemate, not kill him, but to a stalemate. Any time it has been one on one between an Aspect and a Rider, it has never ended in the Rider's victory."

"So we just avoided a two on two fight." Hannah whispered. "Where we couldn't necessarily run."

Harry shook his head. "We avoided a two on one and a half fight. You don't have your full Regalia and wouldn't be able to match them. Impressive as your arrows are for piercing stone, even fired from a normal bow, without your actual bow they would lack a lot of their bite. And let's not forget the power boost each item gives.

"The problem with the Aspects is they follow a human with human goals in mind. We're… different in that regard. We follow a cosmic power, a sort of duty instilled and awakened inside of us when we take on the mantle of Rider. Do they have the same cosmic powers as us, able to make someone's truth be an absolute truth? No. I could wind back the sands of time for someone. I won't, but I can. But they fully believe in the Four Aspects they represent. Victory will be had at all costs. Justice to be had. Truth sought after. And Forgiveness given. The Four Horsemen represent the End of All Things. They must be Victorious over us. They must bring us to Justice. They believe our presence to be a perversion of Truth. And there will be no Forgiveness for us. Remember, these are warriors created by an archaic Catholic Church, back when Witch Burning was common and many innocent people died for it. We cannot allow them to win."

Hannah leaned back and shivered a bit at what he was talking about. "What should we do then?" she asked softly.

Harry pointed in the direction he felt the pair going off in. "They went that way. We were going that way." He pointed in another direction, not quite the opposite direction. "I can sense them up to two hundred meters away. We push on, find your artifacts, and get out of here. Only now we need to be more careful. It's not impossible."

Hannah pushed herself to her feet. Harry could see her hands trembling at what he told her and he felt sorry for it. But it had to be done. This was not some joking matter they could play around with. If the seals were to break, then the Four Horsemen would be unstoppable. The Cosmic energy releasing from the planet as it were being ripped apart would fill them up. It would regenerate wounds, it would let them have limitless stamina.

Until then they were plagued by human limitations.

Hannah began to lead the way off and Harry followed her. He remained vigilant, focusing his senses out the two hundred meters. He was careful to not fall behind. They couldn't afford to be blindsided.

They walked another hour before they came across what they were looking for and Harry looked around a bit. A hilly mound. To most it would look like just another hill in the forest. Trees and flowers grew on it, animals rested on and grazed from the grass on it. But to Hannah?

"They're in there." She said. "How? Did someone bury them?"

Harry shook his head. "No." He began to walk around. "Around the time of Hogwarts' Founding, there was a heavy influx of death around this area that drew the current Pale Rider here. I didn't think this was where we were coming. It's a Seelie Sidhe Mound. A home of Faerie. Except, Faeries aren't allowed to live in Europe anymore. Haven't since around that time. They were worshipped as Gods during ancient times. Celts and Gaelic soldiers worshipping. One of the few times in history warring countries came together to ban them."

"Well, why didn't the Faerie try to live in secret?" Hannah asked as she followed Harry to try and find an entrance.

"Well, Sidhe in particular must do what their King or Queen say. You get a Faerie's word and you have their bond. They cannot break their Word. They will twist your words until you believe the grass is blue and the sky is purple but they cannot break their Word. You have to be really careful in dealings with them. But the Kings and Queens of Faerie had to ask the various rulers to use their land. The Right of Ownership is strong with the Faerie, and the various rulers of their Lands were considered the owners of their Countries.

"You have the Empires of the past and the Rulers tell the Faerie no, then they have a spot of trouble in that they don't have land to live on. They were forced to scatter to the four winds. And in scattering to the four winds…" Harry extended the Harvester and sliced through a part of the mound, rocks and stone falling as he revealed an entry way inside. "They were forced to give up a considerable portion of their power in order to appease the Rulers that would let them in. They couldn't place themselves at the mantle of Godhood anymore. It killed a lot of Faerie to do that. They were too tightly tied to their powers."

Hannah stepped in through the hole Harry made and he followed behind her. He drew his wand out and cast a light spell. He kept it at Hannah's back so she wouldn't be blinded by it.

"It's bigger inside."

"That's Faerie magic." Harry said simply. "It wasn't just Sidhe. There are lots of types of Faerie, some very powerful. I think one of the Pale Riders met one that was immune to the effects of the Deathly Artifacts I have. She didn't lose her soul."

"Should we be worried?" Hannah asked, stopping.

"No." Harry shook his head. "I can make cold iron with Alchemy. And cold Iron is flat out lethal to a Faerie. A small nick and they're going to be deathly ill. Vomiting, bleeding, loss of control of their powers. Cold Iron is so magically resistant and Faeries are just tied to magic itself. It's practically the only sure fire way to kill one. Everything else… well… A Pale Rider heard rumors that an Unseelie Sidhe Court would flay their rule breaks and fuse them to a wall. Their punishment was complete when all their skin grew back, if it grew back.

"Besides, Faerie isn't allowed in Europe and this mound is almost dead." He touched the side of the walls. "Magic still flows through it, but it hasn't gotten a strong charge from Faerie in a very, very long time. I'd say another hundred years and the tunnels will collapse, the walls will decay, and all that will be left will be a mound of dirt in the midst of the Black Forest."

"That's kind of sad." Hannah said, pausing just momentarily. She glanced around. "This place has to be full of history, culture."

"And it will all be lost." Harry said sympathetically. He knew what she was saying. But he knew everything died. From people to empires, everything would eventually die. And there was no stopping it.

Hannah turned to face him. "I don't think it's fair you get all the experiences of the previous Pale Riders." She said in a lighter tone. "You're like a walking encyclopedia of knowledge."

Harry chuckled. "Imagine the next Pale Rider to go through Hogwarts. They'll breeze through seven years in about two or three depending on how diligently they work themselves."

"So not fair." Hannah whined.

The pair continued on. With the defenses of the Faerie Mound lacking the magic to be effective, it only took thirty minutes for Hannah to get them to where she felt her Artifacts. The pair stood upon a ledge, looking down into a twenty foot drop. The ground below in the very center had a golden bow stabbed in the middle of it and a porcelain beaked mask.

"You feeling this might be too easy?" Hannah asked.

"Yeah." Harry mentioned. Sitting out in the open like that? It was just too easy. But they were the real deal. Harry could feel their power from even the distance away.

"_Lux!" _Harry flicked his wand out and sent the higher light spell into the air. The orb arced towards the top of the cavern, some forty feet up. It illuminated the ceiling and Harry didn't see anything to be worried about.

"A projectile form of _Lumos_?" Hannah asked.

"Something like that." Harry said. He looked down to the pit again and sighed. He jumped down, wind rising up to catch him and slow his descent. He landed on his feet and continued to walk forwards. "It's stable!" he called up to Hannah.

She jumped as well and Harry kicked up a gust to catch her as well. She did a three point landing before rising to her feet and continuing towards the bow and the Mask. "So… Take 'em and run?" She asked.

Harry looked to the white mask and walked around a bit. It didn't look like a Plague Doctor's mask. It was more like a mask used to hide someone's features and the beak was less stylized and more like a falcon or similar sort of bird. "Take the mask first and put it on." It was just hanging on the golden bow by the leather strap.

It felt too much like a trap. Like when Harry kept finding his Artifacts. Like he was being pushed towards them by the creatures Beyond the Veil. Were they doing the same here? Did they know that he would arrive with Hannah or were they attempting to weaken him by trying to lure her away?

Hannah took the mask and lifted it up. She slipped it over her head carefully. Power surged through her, the lenses on the mask twisted and spun before coming into focus and slotting back in. Hannah looked surprised and lifted the mask before lowering it back onto her head. She glanced around the cave some more. "I can see more. And it's… it's all purplish blue and I can see into the darkness overhead."

"Low Light vision then." Harry said.

Hannah nodded and kept peering through the lenses. She focused on Harry and the lenses shifted. She stiffened in surprise at what she was seeing. How much hell did he really put himself through? "Harry, you're bleeding off magic at an incredible rate? How much do you have?" Almost as soon as the words left her lip, the lenses switched again and she could see his magic even more. At the center it was a green and black maelstrom. She felt like she was going to be sucked in.

And there was a splotch of crimson at his forehead that she didn't understand.

She looked at her own hands. The power was incredible. Her own magic registered as a sickly yellow and a calming blue. It was not the raging maelstrom that Harry's had, but more like a deep lake. Calm but plentiful. Could she even be as drained?

"Grab the bow Hannah, I think it's time we got out of here." Harry said simply.

She looked to the bow and could see the same sickly yellow and calming blue, like a blue sky mixed with a vibrant gold. The lenses flashed back to normal and she reached a hand out for it. She grabbed the handle and felt the power flow through her and pulled it from the ground. Information scrolled across the lenses of her mask.

"The Bow of Apollo." She whispered.

Then it went straight to Hell.

The ground below them crumbled away and they began to plummet. Hannah let out a scream and even Harry made a sound of surprise. It had been going so well, but as history proved, going well never meant anything.

Hannah tried to right herself. But with no experience with wind manipulation or floating through the air, she couldn't even adjust herself in the slightest. Her grip on the bow had been light and her surprise caused it to slip through her fingers.

Thankfully Harry was in a better state of mind than she was. With the Harvester, he wrapped it around her waist and pulled her over to them. His hand wrapped around her waist and held her hip, tucking her against his left side before he adjusted their trajectory. Hannah could feel the blush building on her face but forced it down.

She had never been touched like that before. And she didn't have feelings for Harry like that. The blush returned full bloom when she thought of another man. "Not now Hannah." She told herself in a soft whisper. "Harry, the bow." She said, pointing to the spinning gold.

"Too far, we'll grab it when we land!" He called out. His wand came up again. "_Lux!"_ He roared out, despite being in her ear. The orb was three times the size as the last one and it shot forward with impressive speed, lighting up the cavern they were falling through. "Damned Faerie Magic!" It was the first time she ever heard Harry swear.

The darkness ahead had swallowed the orb of light however, plunging them back into Darkness. Hannah's mask switched to compensate and began to zoom in. It narrowed her field of vision but allowed her to keep track of the orb further and further. "We're coming up on a landing!" She called out. "Four hundred feet and closing!"

Wind coalesced around them and began to gradually slow their descent. It took a full five minutes to land. When they landed, they were still moving fairly quickly so they sank in on something a little bit before rising up once again. Harry released Hannah and she moved off, her lenses going back to regular magnification. She saw the bow and made her way over towards it.

It wasn't bouncing anymore thankfully. She grabbed her bow and picked it up calmly. She tucked it against her side. "Harry? How do we get out of here?"

"_**You don't little Flies."**_ A deep, booming voice sounded out. "_**Long have I waited. Long have I slept. So long for someone to release me."**_

Hannah spun, bringing up the Bow of Apollo. She removed an arrow from her quiver and notched it. She couldn't see where the voice was coming from. She scanned the walls of the pit they were in. They were so deep down, she didn't see them climbing out.

Not even Harry.

Harry's scythe came out and he got into a ready position. Slowly he turned, attempting to keep at the ready.

"_**Time. Time Little Flies. I have no sense of Time. But I do remember The King's Mandate! The Pale One is to Die! Bound to this Pit, they thought it would imprison me, to plunge me into its infinite depths. They sealed the entrance so that I could not come back. But I was aware, I remember, and I waited."**_

A massive sword of stone shot through the ground under Harry and it was only his quick reflexes that kept him from being bisected as he jumped away.

"_**Little Flies, Little Flies, you have walked into my web. You will not leave here alive. Long have I known Hunger. The Fae attempted to subdue my hunger, casting me into this pit with no food. But they did not understand. Food is all around."**_

Hannah watched as one massive leg caught the lip of the platform they were standing on and the creature began to pull itself upwards. Eight long spindly legs moved across the platform, not even causing it to stir. Its lower body was bloated like a spider's abdomen. Its upper body was roughly humanoid only with four arms, each wielding a stone sword as long as Hannah and Harry standing on top of each other. Hannah could see eight compound eyes upon its head. Its back held two pairs of massive wings. It was armored in thick stone, over grown with moss as it stepped towards the two Riders.

"Is that like what you fought last year, Death?" Hannah whispered fearfully. How were they supposed to stop it? It was massive.

Harry nodded and she could see the ice forming at his feet and spreading over the rocks that were caught in what Hannah could now tell was thick webbing. They were standing on this things webbing. "For better and worse." Harry spoke, his voice a rattle. "And what do we call you?" he asked of the creature before him.

"_**You may call me Beezlebub, and when you greet The King in Death, you may tell Him as such!" **_He swung one of those long swords at Harry and one at Hannah.

Harry dodged to the side at the last moment before striking out with the Harvester, cleaving through the stone before propelling himself up onto the back of the blade and running at the inhuman face.

Hannah landed in a roll and brought up her bow and arrow once more. She took aim and looked to yank back and fire.

Except the bow string didn't budge.

It was a jarring experience, to suddenly be trying to pull on a bow string with all of her might only for it to not even budge. She looked at it a little fearfully before she shouldered it. It was still her bow as Pestilence. "Damn it!" She yelled out. She got out the plain bow and notched an arrow. In seconds it was flying across, a streak of silver trailing in the arrow's wake.

One of those massive swords came up and knocked it away before it took a swipe at Harry. Harry leapt off his perch and twisted in the air to land on his feet on the ground. The Harvester extended out in a lethal spear only to be knocked away.

Harry sprinted under the beast and it rose up onto four of its eight legs in an attempt to stab at Harry, missing just barely each time. It turned with sudden deftness once it landed on all eight legs and took a swipe at Harry but a well-timed jump got him over the slash.

Harry made his way over to Hannah quickly, avoiding the other attacks.

"What happened Pestilence?" Harry asked.

"I can't draw the bow string." Hannah said, motioning to the golden bow. "How do we fight this thing? Is it stronger or weaker than the one you fought last year?"

Harry looked at it. "We keep peppering it with attacks. I don't have an army to raise this time to assault it. As for it being stronger or weaker, the answer is yes. It's older than the last one I fought. A lot older. It's had time to get used to the changes and mutations its food has brought to its body. I'd say it ate a spider, a fly, a Faerie, and the rocks surrounding us. But it's been asleep for a lot of that time. It's still waking up."

"_**Very astute of you Pale Rider. So you have faced one of my kind before and lived to tell about it? Fascinating. But this time will be different!" **_It spat from its mouth a brackish colored substance at them

Harry grabbed Hannah's arm and slung her away before dodging himself. He landed wrong however and his ankle twisted with a harsh sound. He gave an audible grunt of pain before he stood back up on it. He nursed his right ankle a bit before ice surrounded the armor to keep it still and cool it down.

Hannah notched another arrow and fired. And again, and again, and again. She couldn't let Harry down. She couldn't let them die in that pit because she couldn't handle it.

One of those long swords swiped out with surprising speed and Hannah jumped back, only for the sword to cleave through the wood of the bow. The snap of the string against her gloves stung slightly but she reached for the short sword at her side anyways. It'd be like throwing pebbles at it, but she had to try.

Harry rushed forward as quickly as his ankle would let him and he spun. He deflected one of those monstrous blows before leaping backwards over the next one. His situational awareness was impressive. And then Hannah heard it. "Flame of Purification, Fiery Broadsword!" Blue flames condensed down into an ethereal broadsword before launching forward at the creature.

It hissed in fury as the magic splashed and blasted through the armor. It rose up onto four legs again, slashing wildly and angrily. Harry did an impressive bit of dodging, ducking and weaving around not only the slashing legs but also the swinging broadswords. But it was still too much and he took a kick to the chest that sent him sailing through the air.

He flipped through the air and stabbed into the cavern wall with the Harvester, landing on it and breathing heavily. Hannah could see him wince in pain, grabbing his ankle before he leapt down onto the platform with the Harvester once more at the ready.

Still on an injured leg.

"Okay, Fire spells still work on this one." Harry breathed out.

"Can we retreat?" Hannah asked softly. Her voice trembled so slightly. They needed Harry healed.

Harry shook his head and rested the Harvester on his shoulders. He stood up tall and began to walk towards the Creature. "We retreat, this thing gets free. It gets free, and I guarantee the nearest city is gone."

The creature settled down once the fires were out. Its chest still smoldered and its accelerated healing was doing nothing for the scorched flesh underneath the stone armor. "_**Your White Rider lacks conviction Pale One. But you don't. You will face me until you die. I shall eat her at my leisure, but you… you will make for a fine challenge, won't you?"**_

Harry shrugged his shoulders and gave a grim smile. "Yeah, I suppose I will. I won't back down, I won't hesitate. I won't stop."

The creature laughed, a sound like rocks falling from a mountaintop. "_**Your conviction is surprising. And yet you do not sound surprised at the lack that the White Rider has. Why? What is it that pushes you? Drives you forward?"**_

Harry looked at the monstrous creature. "Hope." Harry looked around at the situation. In the dark, where he could just barely make out the creature with his normal vision. Against a foe many times his size, on the enemy's turf. There was little hope to be had in that situation. "You see, about a year ago, I was attacked by one of your kind. Came through a mirror devised by your King to send one through. It fed, and fed, and fed, became resistant to fire as well. But during that fight, the lock I had on my emotions was absolutely shattered. Irreparably destroyed, I had this surge of anger."

He shrugged his shoulders again. "I've been taking to trying to get a feel for every emotion that I can name in the past year. Joy, happiness, rage, anger, hate..." He looked to the creature. He had to look up at it. "I like Hope. At least, I think it's hope. But I like the feel of it. Like anything is possible. Shouldn't that be what magic feels like to a wizard? Like anything can be possible?

"But I cannot interfere with free will, something that has plagued us humans since time immemorial. Free will… It lets us do anything we want, for whatever reasons we want. Pestilence may not be full convinced to what it means to be the White Rider, but that's okay. That's her free will. That's up to her. It's up to her to find the conviction to be the White Rider, to be Pestilence, Queen of Plagues. I cannot force her any further. I have given a push, but I cannot force anything."

The creature leaned in, pincer faced maw twisted into a facsimile of a smile, a smirk. Cold and cruel. "_**But you do not lack her conviction. You truly believe in being Death, Rider of the Pale Steed. If the Balance were to declare your world's end tomorrow, could you do it? Could you destroy the Seals of your planet and condemn it to destruction?"**_

"Yes." Harry said firmly. "I am fully invested in being Death. In being the Rider of Despair. And if it meant I had to ride alone, I would. If tomorrow the Balance were to order me to destroy the Seals of the Apocalypse, I would do it without second guessing. Even though my loved ones would die, and countless sentient lives would die, I would do it. I would go to the remaining Seals and Consume their power until they rust and rot away and usher in the destruction of this world.

"Because I have free will. Something I don't expect a slave like you to understand."

"_**A Slave? Is that how you see me Pale Rider?"**_

"You serve a tyrannical master that seeks to destroy the Balance. I doubt you ever remember what you were in life."

Once more there was that booming monstrous laugh. "_**Oh wrong you are Pale Rider. I remember every detail vividly. I serve The King willingly. He has granted me every desire I could have." **_It raised its hands up, all four and looked at them, squeezing its hands tightly.

"_**I was born to a warrior race, Pale Rider. Thousands of years of dedication and careful breeding allowed for only the strongest. A thousand eggs to a clutch. Warriors would go in through the clutch and crush the sickly looking eggs under hoof. When the eggs hatched, the weak looking were fed to our hunting beasts.**_

"_**My dame kept my egg to herself, instead of a pristine white my egg was pitch black. When I was born, I was weak, small… malformed. But I still learned the path of a warrior. At the cusp of adulthood, I was thrown into the radioactive wastes of my home world to survive. I had nothing. No armor, no weapons. Just my wits and my weak, small, frail body."**_

All eight of its compound eyes focused on Harry. "_**My **_**conviction**_** let me live. My conviction brought me back four months after I was declared dead, dragging the corpse of a **_**Balen'sor**_** behind me. I had brought my trophy back, dragged it behind me on full display. I carefully guarded it from rot, from scavengers. My trophy earned me my place as an adult. But I was never looked at as such. My frail, small body was considered a liability. If I wanted to hunt, I had to go alone. I was never allowed to breed and pass my traits along. Every day was a struggle to survive, but my **_**conviction**_** let me live on.**_

"_**Our Riders of the Apocalypse, Cowardice, Treachery, and Sloth were killed by The King's Agents. When He marched upon our world, He wrought destruction against our best warriors effortlessly. He gave us a chance. To bow to Him and serve in a thousand battles or be destroyed out right. My people, warriors all, lived for the battle. They bowed to The King. I, and so few others, stood defiantly.**_

"_**That was my **_**FREEWILL!"**__The beast boomed the words out with force the entire cavern shuddered. _**"Others of my kind bowed! They fell to bended knee before The King, and I had the **_**conviction **_**to stand before Him!**_

"_**Pain! Unimaginable pain I was subjected to! Agony, being ripped apart, limb from limb rent and forced back on! On and on it went! Like the venom of a thousand **_**Balen'sor **_**digging and burrowing through my flesh and my muscle! Time had no meaning! But the pain, the physical searing pain was nothing compared to the agony of my own people denying my existence and then bowing to The KING!"**_

Compound eyes focused back on Harry, hatred and rage filling them. Whether at the memories, the King, his People, or Harry, Harry was unable to figure out. "_**When the pain stopped, I had found that The King gave me a new body, a new form. One that was strong, it was no longer sickly. It wasn't weak. Those that had bowed to Him ended up as food to be recycled. Weak that they were. They lacked **_**conviction**_** to do His Will. The King granted me everything I had ever asked for, every desire, and He asked for one thing in return. To bring about the destruction of the Balance that cares nothing for us. I serve willing. That is my **_**free will.**_** That is the choice of Qun'Shai, Slayer of the first **_**Balen'sor, **_**in two thousand egg clutches, proud warrior of the **_**Shekal**_**!"**_

Harry looked at the looming creature before him and he twisted the Harvester into a spear. Flames erupted along the edge of it as he hardened himself. His features turned skeletal as he tapped into the deepest pits of his Deathly Aura. Ice spread from him in a thick aura. "Very well Qun'Shai." The name fell from Harry's tongue with some difficulty. It was not a name designed for human vocal chords. "I shall give you a warrior's death!"

Harry rushed forward, a streak of ice being left in his wake as a pillar formed under him and launched him into the air. The creature rushed forward and swung swords of stone with surprising speed, looking to cleave Harry in half.

And Hannah could only look on helplessly.

She was useless. Her sword meant nothing. She couldn't get close enough with the entity swinging his four limbs so swiftly. Harry was impressively moving despite his injured leg. Moving without hesitation as though he could see the smallest of gaps and making his body fit through them.

She looked down at her hands. So useless that she was deemed just food instead of a threat. Her hands trembled. Was she the right fit for being Pestilence? Did she deserve the title? To fight alongside Harry like this?

Or was she just a burden? She failed in Milan, Harry had gone down and if Plague hadn't been there they both would have been dead very likely. If it hadn't been for Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore, he might have been trapped inside of his own mind.

She felt like a child attempting to be something she wasn't. Why give her this power? Why not give it to someone else? Someone better suited for it. How many times had Harry guided her? Why couldn't she manage on her own?

The sound of metal grating on stone caused her to look up. Harry slid back a ways but was quick to jump back into the fray with the monster. Why? What kept him pushing ahead? What made it possible for him to speak so strongly? Was he really willing to destroy everything if it was ordered of him by the Balance?

Her? Susan? Flitwick?

The faces of her family flickered through her mind. Could she do that? Could she be the end of them if it was necessary? Would she stand with or against Harry? Could she stand against Harry? He had the Harvester and such magical power. And she had a bow that she couldn't even pull back on.

Her hands trembled. Harry wouldn't even be there if it weren't for her. Fighting in the middle of the Black Forest in a foreign country, hundreds, thousands of miles from home. Yet she went to him and he had agreed to come without any hesitation. What had she done to deserve such friendship? Such loyalty?

She unslung the Bow of Apollo and held it in her hands. She tried the string again, grunting but unable to pull it back. She was useless! What was the point in being Pestilence?! What was the point of being strong if she couldn't help her friends?!

She notched an arrow. She grit her teeth and sighted down the shaft at the abomination. Her hands wavered as she knelt down in a shooting stance. Despite the gloves help, her aim still swayed. Harry took everything in stride and compensated for it. Couldn't use the full might of his magic? Oh well. A man attempted to kill their mutual friend? Harry struck first. Ankle twisted in the middle of a battle? He fought anyways.

"No more." She whispered and forced her hands to stead. She took aim at the legs. "No more questioning. Not when he needs me." Her arms shook with the strength she put in, trying desperately to pull back on the bow string.

"I am a Hufflepuff." She said. "I will stand by my friends when they need me the most, no matter if they storm the gates of Hell. I will be by their side, even when I am afraid. Their courage will give me courage to stand beside them and be their shield."

The bow started to warm in her hands, even through the gloves. It started to glow slightly and she began to pull back on the bowstring. "I am Hannah Abbot. I am the Rider of the White Steed Plague. I am Pestilence, Queen of Plagues, and I will stand by my friends!" She pulled back fully on the bowstring before launching the arrow.

Instead of a streak of silver slicing through the sky, it was a sickly golden color. All she demanded was that it rot the beast with the foulest plague fathomable. It struck the leg and severed it, rotting both ends of the leg before blasting through the next four. The beast fell to one side with a howl of rage or agony, Hannah didn't care.

It swiped at its own legs, cutting the stubs off before growing new ones.

Hannah didn't care. She notched the next arrow and let it fly. And again. And again. The lenses to her mask zoomed and focused and made up for the light show as the arrows streaked across the cavern with lethal accuracy. Chest, abdomen, arms, even one to the head. She kept firing the arrows, slamming them into the side of the cavern. The creature's body rotted for every arrow that blasted through it.

She would get them out of there. She would get Harry home to her best friend. She would get home to her own bed. She would fulfill her dreams of becoming the best Healer she could be!

The creature still managed. It wrenched parts of its body off and healed them up at an accelerated rate. It was slower than she could fire, but she wasn't killing the thing at this rate.

Harry had leapt back at the third or fourth salvo and landed on his injured ankle. He winced but forced himself to stand. If he didn't need a cast by the end of the battle, he would be amazed. '_**Little Death, your White Rider will not be able to kill it.**_' The booming in his head caused him to clutch at it and he felt blood trickle down his nose. '_**I had already given you the tools to do so. Do you not remember? The Scythe remembers. Harvest the creature. Separate the chaff and take its powers for your own.'**_

"_**ENOUGH!" **_The creature roared out as it managed to stand, deflecting several of Hannah's arrows. "_**Plummet for eternity!" **_With that, the creature wrenched the webbing up and away from the wall, sending all three plummeting down into the darkness of the infinite pit.

Harry went into a fall with Hannah who still couldn't right herself. Yet she still managed to keep a grasp on her Bow. Harry looked grimly below at the creature that was falling faster, its larger mass allowing it to fall faster. If they ran, it would escape. And it would destroy thousands of people.

Harry used the Harvester like a whip to catch and pull Hannah to him once more. "We have to kill it." Harry said. There was no sending it Beyond the Veil. They had to put it down, just as Harry had done to Mephistopheles.

"How?" Hannah's voice didn't waver as she asked. Harry could tell she found some form of conviction, something that made her embrace being Pestilence.

Harry looked into the depths of the pit. "Can you track it?" He could hear the shifting of the lenses of Hannah's mask. He was really interested in learning more about the magic and technology that had gone into its creation.

"Done. Three hundred feet and widening." She said.

"It can wait the three days for us to die." Harry said. He held Hannah around her waist once more and extended the Harvester out. It cut through the wind, causing them to fall just that bit faster as there was no wind resistance. Few things would ever have resistance enough to slow the Harvester. "I'd rather be back at school in three days."

Harry felt Hannah's arm around his waist, like she could read his mind. He whipped out his wand with his other hand. A fifth year spell was on the tip of his tongue. He poured as much magic into it as he could. "This won't affect him long with my focus split. You aim the Harvester, we'll fire it like an arrow right through him."

Hannah put her bow in front of them and the Harvester quickly shrunk down to an unwieldy but usable arrow. Maybe if Hannah's bow was a long bow it would work, but it wasn't so she made do. She adjusted things based on the information her mask was giving her. Wind velocity, distance, the Harvester's weight. Harry held the Harvester and she helped him get the bow string pulled back.

This was the most asinine thing she had ever conceived of. But Harry had proven before to do the impossible, and she wouldn't doubt him in this.

Harry felt back to that feeling of Soul Magic against Mephistopheles. No. It wasn't Soul Magic. It was something else. It was something more. It was something so grand that even the vaunted Soul Magic was primitive in comparison.

It was the only thing to destroy one of those from Beyond the Veil of Death.

Hannah grit her teeth before she let go of Harry's waist and rolled slightly under him in the air. She tried to press as close to him as she could, looking upside down as she grabbed his forearm to pull back on the Harvester with. She sighted the beast a little better, sure that they could hit it. But whatever Harry was putting on the Harvester hurt her. She could feel something… trying to tug at her chest and it hurt.

"_Arresto Momentum!"_ Harry roared out and fired the spell forward. It sliced through the air. The pair had been approaching terminal velocity with how long they had been falling and how long Harry had taken to charge the spells.

But the spell went just a bit faster, the launch speed and massless existence of the spell allowed it to pass without any wind resistance. Nine hundred feet. There wasn't much aiming needing to be done with the creature. It impacted just after the creature crossed the threshold of one thousand feet. It jerked to a sudden halt.

Before the spell that slowed its speed to a fifth of what it had been previously wore off, Harry and Hannah were there and Hannah let go of Harry's arm. Harry let go of the Harvester and the bow did the rest.

It was the most incredulous thing that Harry had ever done, and he doubted he would ever top it. Climb Hogwarts? No problem. Give him some chalk and a pair of good shoes. Jump off Hogwarts? Done it. Fight a creature from Beyond the Veil of Death? Something that existed outside of space and time? Give him a location.

Firing his weapon from the weapon of another Rider while falling at terminal velocity into an infinite pit made by Faerie magic while channeling some cosmic force capable of destroying what basically amounted to some cosmic horror monster that wanted to destroy the Balance?

No amount of truth serum in the world would be able to convince people he wasn't lying.

The impact resounded against the walls with a thunderous sound. The creature was blasted through its upper torso and the abdomen area. Harry, with his freed hand, brought Hannah down and his arm up so that he'd take the hit first.

They blasted through the creature just as it scattered into dust and ash.

Now plummeting in free fall, Harry let go of Hannah to try and go a bit faster with less surface area since he wasn't hanging onto her. He held out one hand, he needed to get the Harvester which was falling faster. "_Accio!" _He felt it tug just as it hit the darkness but it kept going.

He put it in his mind's eye. He wouldn't always be able to see the target of the summoning spell. "_ACCIO!"_ He roared out and watched as it came spinning back out of the darkness. The impact against the Dominion Gauntlet sent him into a flat spin, but it quickly coiled around the arm. His arm was also broken, the shoulder napping like a twig from the force. His yell of pain reverberated around him, but it had to be done.

He could not go without the Harvester.

"Harry! How are we getting out of this?" Hannah called out from some distance ahead, a distance Harry was closing in on because of the adamantine armor giving him greater mass.

Harry looked over to Hannah. He held his hand out towards her as they were about equal distance. "_Accio."_He pulled her over to his body and tucked her in with one arm. He felt her wrap her arm around his waist.

"Your arm is shattered Harry!" She screeched as she saw the damage.

"Not now Hannah." Harry grit his teeth until he heard one actually crack. He inhaled and pulsed out with his artifacts, acting like a massive beacon. "Despair!" He roared out.

Green flames erupted above them before being swallowed into the darkness. Wing beating sounded out as the steed plummeted and sought to catch up to them. And unlike Harry and Hannah, Despair was the wind. He could go as fast as he pleased and with the danger they were in, it rushed down quickly.

Once the steed was galloping down beside them, Harry maneuvered Hannah onto Despair's back, just in front of the wings. With Hannah's help, he was maneuvered onto Despair's back just behind the wings. He reached around in front of Hannah to Despair's neck and they vanished in a burst of flames.

They exploded out several times, gradually slowing. Harry couldn't even begin to fathomably consider where all they were going, but Despair seemed to know that a lurching stop would very likely kill the two Riders.

Eventually however, they made it to Hogwarts' Room of Requirements. Hannah and Harry both fell off of Despair, Harry landing on his injured arm and making him howl in rage and pain once more. Hannah was quick to get up and make her way over to him.

Susan rushed over to the pair quickly. "What's wrong?" she asked suddenly scared as she helped Harry onto his back.

Harry gave a pained laughed. "We won. That's what." He hissed gingerly before reaching over and pulling the Dominion Gauntlet off. It hurt to just flex his fingers straight to pull it off. He mentally triggered the Adamantine Armor and watched as it folded up on itself, slowly sliding off his body. It took the form of a cube, folding until it was a rather dense looking cube of the metal.

Harry removed his cloak once he sat up and tucked the cowl under his shirt once more. He breathed a bit heavily. "Owe. Everything hurts."

Hannah shook her head at the state of Harry's arm. "Broken scapula, broken clavical, broken humerus, broken ulna, broken radial, broken carpals, broken meta carpals, broken phalanges, your ulna and humerus are sticking out of the skin!" She shouted.

Harry forced himself to his feet with a hiss of pain. He tucked his arm against his side. "Best get to Madam Pomfrey then. It was a training accident." He said as he quickly headed out of the room. He had to move quickly before the blood loss set in.

This time he didn't have the Sword of Cratos to make him numb to such.

He instead used his ice to seal the wounds some so that he didn't end up bleeding out. The heat of the blood still melted the ice partially. By the time he got to the Hospital Wing, his vision was blurring. "Madam Pomfrey?" He called out.

"Har- Mister Potter, what in the world happened?" She shrieked out as she came from her office and saw the condition of his left arm.

"He fell, dropped something, attempted to catch it, and it was a lot harder than he thought it was." Hannah said.

"Hey that's not what we agreed on." Harry said pained.

"No, but it's the truth. Now sit. Your ankle is also sprained."

Harry sat on the bed. He glanced to Hannah who had managed to get her own gear off quickly enough. "You gotta admit, before that was pretty impressive."

"No before that was utterly asinine. I told you, no training like that Harry. One of these days, you're going to hit something as stubborn as you are and Madam Pomfrey won't be able to patch you up. Utterly and completely bat shite crazy!" Hannah shouted.

"Language Miss Abbot." She said as she ran a diagnostic on Harry's arm, coming to the same conclusion as Hannah. "I don't know what sort of training you are doing, but no more. Next time you fall, don't try to catch yourself and don't try to catch what you dropped. I don't know the full story about what caused this injury Mister Potter, but I'm inclined to believe Miss Abbot's version. This is almost as bad as you cutting your arm off. I'm going to have to vanish the bones. You're in for a rough night Potter. You're going to have to grow them all back."

Harry gave a grunt of displeasure. But Madam Pomfrey vanished the bones of his arm and shoulder, letting the arm listlessly fall. He scowled a bit. He really didn't like it.

"You are completely and utterly impossible Harry. That maneuver shouldn't have worked in a million years. Let's never, ever do something like that again.' Hannah said.

"I'm going to agree with Hannah on this one." Susan said as she came it. She might have been missing context, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that worked that Harry was in rough condition and that from Hannah's words it was because of something that should have never been attempted.

Harry raised his right hand and gave a salute. "No more jumping off Hogwarts, no more self-attempted surgical procedures, no more asinine plans that include falling and the _Arresto Momentum _spell." He said with an amused look on his face.

Pomfrey gave a particularly displeased look as she handed him a goblet of potion. "You, Mister Potter, are completely and utterly insane attempting that spell in mid fall. And if I hear more about you attempting surgical procedures on yourself for some equally insane reason, I will have to call in a Mind Healer to make sure you're not insane."

Harry slid onto the bed and laid down. He even kicked his boots off beforehand. He placed his wand on the night stand and used one hand to flop his boneless hand onto his stomach before crossing it with his good one. "I'll be good. I promise."

Pomfrey gave him a bit of a glare. "Girls, you might wish to return to your dormitories. I will allow Mister Potter visitors after his shoulder has begun to regrow." Her tone went particularly harsh at the word 'shoulder'

Harry removed his glassed and closed his eyes. He covered his face briefly with his pillow. No need to let her think he was doing anything but resting. If there was one woman he was afraid of, it would be Madam Pomfrey. The sound of the two girls leaving him to his rest sounded to him and he sighed.

He knew that plan had been stupid, ill-conceived and a one in a trillion sort of plan that relied so heavily on luck it left him disgusted by it. Give any other two people everything needed in that scenario, and every time they would fail in that sort of plan.

Had the roles of the Riders been reversed, had he been Pestilence, they would have never made that shot.

Harry closed his eyes slowly. He just hoped sleep would come.

-_**Scene Break-**_

The King sat upon His throne in the darkness. Talons thrummed against the stone, clicking audibly. Nothing else made a sound. Not even the viewing pool that had shut itself off. Annoyance. It was not often that He felt annoyance. The talons stopped thrumming for a moment before with a flick of two spindly fingers, it raised the creature that had suggested such a plan. Another flick sent it hurtling from His throne room, from His dimension and into the vortex of absolute destruction residing just planes away.

The thrumming commenced again. He would not suffer such stupidity to be recycled. "**What have we learned?"** He asked.

"_**The Pale One is crafty My Lord."**_ Another flick of His talons sent the speaker off into oblivion. The annoyance of His thrumming fingers could be heard and no one dared to speak again. No one dared to answer.

"**What have we learned?!" **He roared out once more. Unsurprisingly, His General stepped forward and fell into bended knee before Him. "**Speak Azmodeus."**

"_**The Plan itself was solid. Destroy one of the Pale Rider's comrades, release one of our brothers. The Pale Rider has shown himself to be emotionally compromised. Killing his comrade would have made him vulnerable, whether he was grief-stricken or full of rage. But the failure lies in the lack of research done. We should have known that he would have gone with his comrade. We should have known the White Rider would have gone to the Pale Rider."**_

"**Very good Azmodeus." **The King spoke, His annoyance lessened only slightly. His General was intelligent and could read His mood and desires better than anyone else. It was what made Azmodeus a good general. "**Now that we understand this. What do we do about this? The loss of Qun'Shai does not sit well with Me."**

No one had an answer for The King. No one had a plan and it irritated Him even more. Talons dragged along His throne. "**Find me a world near the Balance!" **He roared out.

"_**How long do we have My Liege?" **_One of His Hand asked.

"**A week." **The King snarled. It was almost unfathomable for those that served Him to have only that long. Not when they judged a life span by centuries.

They scattered to the cosmos to find a world.

"**Not you Azmodeus."**

"_**My King?" **_His General had started to leave, but sank back into a kneeling position.

"**Tell me Azmodeus, what did you see during their battle with Qun'Shai? It pains Me that Qun'Shai fell. He was granted a death befitting his warrior race, but it still pains Me."**

Azmodeus bowed his head in silence a moment, thinking about the battle against Qun'Shai. From almost the start, Qun'Shai had the advantage. By all rights, he should have won. He should have returned to them once the Pale One was dead and the lock was broken.

Yet…

"_**The Balance stepped in My King. The Balance guided them through the fight. Made them numb. Their final gambit should have never worked. The Balance rarely works in such ways, My King." **_Azmodeus had rarely seen as such. The Balance evened the odds in their favor. Had they been cleaved in half that would have been it. But the sprained ankle… Clearly the Balance had lessened the pain or the damage.

"**Yes Azmodeus. Continue to gather information on the Pale Rider. You have done well to recognize that he is emotionally compromised. But I want more. I want him as My Hand."**

"_**So you Will it, My King, so it shall be." **_Azmodeus answered before standing up and heading off to continue his information gathering.

The King went back to His pondering, thrumming his fingers against the stone work of His throne. He would retaliate against the Balance. He would rend apart a world close to the Balance so that it knew He would not take such an action lying down. He was a King of His domain. He was The King of His Domain.

And the Balance had killed one of His subjects.

He would make the Balance think twice before interfering again!

**-End Chapter-**

**A/N: Three. Hundred. Thousand. Words.**

**Holy fuck. I think I mentally broke a little at that number guys. I don't think I've wrote anything that got that far in this short of a period of time.**

**Not only that, but One thousand reviews! ONE THOUSAND! I did it! I finally effing did it!**

**So one super chapter for you guys. My fingers feel like they're going to fall off. We hit 1.5k, I'll do another 10k word + chapter for you guys.**

**But Book 2 is coming to a close, and then I'm going to be on a brief Hiatus from this story.**


	55. Book 2: Chapter 28

_Last Time: Harry and Hannah have retrieved the last of Hannah's artifacts, the Bow of Apollo and an as of yet unnamed Mask. But it was a trap designed to kill Hannah and compromise Harry by those from Beyond the Veil. They were pitted against another from Beyond the Veil, Beezlebub or Qun'Shai as his original name was. They were victorious with an impossible maneuver that was guided by the Balance and left Harry hospitalized re-growing the bones in his left arm. The King, in his Fury, has ordered for his Hand to find a world close to the Balance._

Book 2: Pestilence

Chapter 28

Harry laid in the hospital bed. Other than the occasional throbs of pain from his arm as the Skele-Grow worked to regrow his bones, he was quite comfortable. He had a leg propped up and a word search propped against it, a pen slowly working to find the words that was on the list. He was tempted to start making his own.

That actually a bad business idea.

"Madam Pomfrey, you're unsuccessful in getting me to not think about business!" Harry called out with a chuckle. The woman had expressly forbidden any study materials, any business materials, or any research. He was to be resting according to her

Not like it was actually going to be happening.

There was some grumbling from her office, but he knew she screened everything that he had. If he somehow thought about business with the few things he had, that was not something she could stop.

"You know, you're supposed to be resting." Susan said as she came in to the Hospital Wing. "Especially if you're to make it to exams tomorrow. Professor Lupin won't be pleased if you can't make it to his exam."

Harry snorted briefly. "Professor Lupin has been so preoccupied lately I had to tell him to cancel class and get some sleep. Remember our last test?"

Susan offered a slight giggle. "You mean where his head hit his desk with a resounding thud?"

"That's the one. Turns out Narcissa has been corrupting our innocent History of Magic Professor. Late nights out of the castle to go be with her. They're expecting twins in February already." Harry said.

Susan blinked. "But didn't they just get back together in April?" She asked.

"They've been making up for lost time very… enthusiastically." Harry said simply. What his Professor and Narcissa did in their free time was their business. But as one of the Four responsible for Hogwarts, he had to step in and say something when Remus ended up sleeping in class. It was never more than five or ten minutes at a time, and he always made sure it was during a lull in class, but Harry did say something about it.

Susan pulled up a chair and set it down beside his bed. She reached up and pulled the curtains so that they could have some privacy, and she set the wards a moment. She sat down beside Harry and bunched her hands up in her skirt.

Harry adjusted himself to sit up and look at Susan more seriously. She was trembling and looked like she needed to say something. So he didn't say a word, he just let her get herself situated. When she was ready, when she found her words she would speak. If he rushed it, they would end up in an argument.

"Would you really end the World if told to?" She whispered. "What about me Harry?"

Ah. He had wondered when this conversation was coming. Ever since the battle with Qun'Shai, he knew that this was coming. That Hannah would tell Susan just what he said because he doubted Hannah understood it. It was fine though, he had expected it.

Harry shifted to his left on the bed and made space. He patted the bed for Susan. "Come here." He whispered to his girlfriend. "Please." He added.

She hesitated a moment before she moved and joined him on the bed.

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned against her softly. "It's okay." He told her. "It'll be okay." This would probably be their first impasse, and despite his solitary nature, he wanted to keep Susan as not only a friend but also his girlfriend. And it had nothing to do with her growing powers of a Necromancer.

She was his friend, probably his best friend. She was sweet, kind, and she was unknowingly helping him learn emotions. He couldn't feel sadness without knowing happiness. Every negative had a positive. People tried to enjoy the positive more, but it still didn't change the fact that was the truth of the matter.

"Please understand from my position Sue." He whispered to her. He felt her head rest on his chest. It was the most intimate they had been. They had little touches and weren't afraid to hold hands, but hugging and holding was still foreign to him. "Becoming a Rider was the best thing that happened to me. It gave me the strength to rise up and become who I am. I owe the Balance everything."

He closed his eyes a moment. "I… I get glimpses. Sort of like Luna, but nothing so extreme. I see a prejudice Gryffindor getting by on the skin of his teeth. He knows nothing of business or politics, and while he can generally be called a good person, he ends up practically shunning a group of people simply for being sorted into a House."

He opened his eyes to stare into the sapphire pools that were Susan's eyes. He saw that they were shiny with tears. "That boy has no right to call himself a Potter. He gets by on luck with only a touch of skill. He squanders his potential. And that disgusts me. I owe the Balance for making me worthy of my name." He touched Susan's hand and squeezed it gently. "So when it tasked me with finding the other Three Riders through Dust, I threw myself into it with everything that I am. I have found one in Hannah. I have a strong gut feeling who War is and I'll confront her in time. Famine comes next. If, and this is a very strong if, it ordered me to destroy the Seals, I would. I wouldn't ask Hannah to come with, I would just do it myself."

Harry looked to the redhead. She would be so beautiful later in life and he hoped he was worthy of her. He knew he would have to do some questionable things. "But I have to believe in the Balance. It gives and it takes in equal measure. It may not seem like it at the time, but it does. Its influence is in every action that we take. My parents were taken from me that night, I was placed with my relatives. I was made a Rider. We don't ever know where the scales are tipped, but we must have faith that at the end of everything, everything we are, that the scales are balanced."

Harry's gaze softened a bit. "And the Balance led me to you Sue. I can't express in words how… wonderful it has been these past few months. The touching, the familiarity, the… just joy." Harry made a motion with his arm, sending a ripple through the lower half. He had regrown the scapula, clavicle, and the humerus already but everything else was still growing. "This, this is a small price for my joy, my happiness to be with you Sue. And I'd pay it again without hesitation."

Tears streamed down her face and Susan tapped his lips. "Careful Mister, that's coming close to a declaration of love." Her cheeks were flushed with a blush. "But I think I get it. It's part belief and part sense of duty. You have such a strong sense of duty, it's quite admirable really. It lets you work with such a furor."

Harry smiled a little more. "Someone's been looking at my thesaurus." He said.

She smacked his chest for that bit of cheek. But it was sort of what he was talking about. Before her, he wouldn't have given that sort of cheek. He was more stoic, less in touch with his emotions. And she brought that out for him. And he fully believed that it was in part due to the Balance that he was with her.

Part.

Susan rested her head on his chest again. She couldn't believe just how steady and slow his heart beat was. Her heart was all a flutter at the way he spoke to her. It really had been close to a declaration of love. Did she feel that way for Harry? Did she want him to say those words to her? A small childish fantasy version did want it. He was a very dashing young man.

But she didn't want to be a fangirl. And she had to think about it rationally. Just because they were happy now didn't necessarily mean they would be happy later. But she wasn't opposed to the idea of being the woman that Harry loved.

"Okay Harry," She whispered. "You get a pass this time." She slid her arms around him and squeezed. "But be careful. While you're willing to put your body through injury after injury, I hate seeing you do it. You need to be safe. This is three times now you've come before me suddenly and injured. And it's getting progressively worse."

She eased off the bed and unhooked the sheet to take down the silencing ward. "Get yourself injured again Mister, and I'll be putting you in that bed myself." She said before she walked out.

Harry shook his head softly as he watched his girlfriend walk off. He knew he dodged a bullet, but he understood. She was afraid. Afraid for him and more. It was a very reasonable fear that he could do nothing to alleviate for her.

And he couldn't be mad at Hannah for telling her best friend. She was probably just as worried about him as Susan was but for other reasons. It wasn't out of malice that Hannah told Susan, but out of not knowing what to do or say.

But Susan knew what to say to him.

But Harry wasn't lying when he said he saw glimpses. They usually came when he was asleep and after a major landmark in his life. The other possibility had stabbed a Basilisk through the mouth and almost gotten killed in the process when a fang slammed through his arm. Once more luck had been on his side. Fawkes had come down for him.

And then the cowardly way he just let people suspect him of opening the chamber. It had been disgusting for Harry to see. He hoped he never saw that version of himself. He'd be obligated to remove that stupidity from the gene pool.

Harry briefly touched his side where he had cut himself open. Well, maybe he had his own moments of stupidity and luck. But even without his Deathly Artifacts, he thought he could kill Balthazar again. The first step would be to blind him with some spell.

Harry's luck usually came in when he had to deal with some cosmic force. Case in point, his duel with Lucius Malfoy. Yes, he made a lot of mistakes in that duel, but he was never relying on luck to see him through it. If he had to go back to duel, he'd destroy Lucius Malfoy in under a minute and be done with it.

He settled back onto the bed and propped his leg up once more. He placed his crossword puzzle on his thigh and started again. For now, he had to focus on healing, on resting up. It wouldn't do to not focus on that. Not when he had exams the next week.

-_**Scene Break-**_

Harry down from the Ravenclaw tower to meet up with the other students that were heading for the Hogwarts Express. Harry would, again, be going to the cottage he had on the edge of Hogsmeade and just Floo back home. It was quite nice to be able to have that option.

Maybe he should offer it to Seamus. Maybe he should charge Seamus.

Harry snorted. Always looking to make money. He moved between the students and caught up to Cedric who was chatting with Cho Chang. Interesting. There was some chemistry there despite being seekers on opposite teams. "Cedric, Cho." Harry said in greeting.

"Oh, hey Harry." Cedric said, turning to look at the younger male. Cho offered a wave to her Housemate. "Founder Heir Business?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "I have a project coming up that I'd like your input on. Both of you in fact. I'll talk to you more about it when we come back from Holidays, but I recently acquired a racing broom manufacturer. I'm apparently going to have a working prototype in a few months and figured I'd ask the Seekers for some help. I'd don't know much about how brooms are supposed to handle myself or what a Seeker would look for in a quality racing broom."

Cedric nodded. "Alright, sounds like fun. Going to be tough to beat the Firebolt coming out this month though. They've been working on it for a decade from my understanding. Heard it can turn like nothing else."

"Gee forces aren't good based on the testing it went through." Cho said. "Not enough dampening spells on it. Too tight of a turn and Seekers are passing out on it. Hopefully they'll have gotten that worked out. Hard to pull a Feint if you can't make the turn to get away from the ground in time."

"Well Shooting Star Racing Brooms is hoping to top the Firebolt." Harry said proudly. "Got an engineer who claims we can do it better in less time. It took seven years for the Firebolt to have a working prototype for testing, another three before it could come out. We're looking to cut that time into a third of the time."

Cedric whistled lowly. "That's ambitious Harry. But given the other stuff I've heard you plan, that's exactly like you. Speaking of, when are we doing interviews for the courses coming up?"

"I already have someone for Alchemy." Harry said with a bit of a wave. "Alphonse Wilhelm, German Alchemist. He and his brother Edward got a mastery at ages 15 and 17 respectively. I originally wanted Edward, but he has a contract with the Government. I've sent letters to Nicholas Flamel and Alphonse both. Flamel highly recommends Alphonse, he may be young but he knows what he's talking about and with seven years of experimentation and practical under his belt, he'll be able to convey it well."

Cedric looked surprised. "Wow. I'm impressed. You're connected. But shouldn't you have run it by the rest of us?" He asked.

Harry inhaled. "Yeah, I should have." He admitted. "But the Alchemy class is my baby essentially. I pushed and pushed for it, I knew I wanted someone with a mastery in the subject to teach it. And Alphonse and Edward have basically tore apart and re-written Germany's entire course structure on Alchemy."

Cedric nodded. "Alright Harry. I understand. Just… keep us informed a little better next time, yeah?"

Harry nodded and turned to look at the blonde male. "I'm sorry." He said genuinely. "I've been doing stuff on my own for a long time, it's still taking me some getting used to working in a group."

Cedric nodded. "Being perfectly honest, I think me and Colin would have just let you do it, you know? You're right. Alchemy is your baby. And Colin looks up to you, most of the first years do."

Harry inclined his head. "Thanks. As for when we'll be doing interviews, I'll trust you three to do them over the course of July. I may not be back in Britain by then. I trust you Cedric, you have a good judge of character. And Aria's as ambitious as I am, she'll make sure we get the best for each position. If I am back, I'll join you of course."

Ceric clapped Harry on the back. "Thanks. And just for the record, I do trust you. But there's something about you that makes me uneasy. Like your some great maelstrom lying in wait."

Cho looked surprised. "You feel it too?" She asked.

Harry paused a moment, looking to the two older students. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Cho wrung her hands a moment. "Harry, it's like you're this laying dragon that's awake and aware. And not some docile dragon, but one of the truly ferocious species. The only ones that seem to be immune to the feeling are the first years. But it has some of the upper year Ravenclaws on edge. Like you're just moments away from rampaging."

"And my magic have mercy on all of us when that happens." Cedric said bluntly. "Harry, you're a force to be reckoned with and a force of change. You see something wrong and you change it. You try to go about it the best way possible, but from time to time you go about it radically. Just look at with Snape."

Harry considered their words before he nodded. "I'll take it into consideration." He told the pair of Seekers before he started to walk off.

It was not something that he expected to hear. Did he seem that dangerous? He'd have to ask some of the other older students, maybe Flitwick. Maybe even Remus. He was still reluctant to go to Sirius.

He came across the Weasley Twins. "Fred, George." He greeted in return. "A little bird has reached my ear about something."

"We didn't do it." They automatically said in unison.

"That's the problem. You two didn't do it." Harry countered them. The trio stared at one another for a moment before Harry smirked. "Walk with me gentlemen." He said.

The twins walked alongside Harry for ten feet before Harry started to talk. "I'm a businessman, I'd like to say a rather successful one too. The conglomerate that makes up my holdings is taking on more and more. And I see a business opportunity before me." He turned briefly. "A monopoly to break up sounds exciting."

The twins blinked, glancing to one another. "I don't see how this pertains to us Harry." Fred said.

"Zonko's."

"Ah." The Twins said in unison. Already he could see their minute movements as they spoke silently. Small twitches, shrugs, hand movements, the movement of the eyes, it was all rather impressive. They had made their own language from their body language. "Harry, sorry, but… we can't." George said.

Fred nodded. "We like Zonko's stuff and all, but they could be better."

"Which is why I came to you two. I hear you two are interested in opening a joke shop. But let's face it, your family can't exactly fund you to do so. And Gringott's loans are heavily slanted… towards Gringott's. Goblins are greedy creatures. Warriors the lot of them, but if they can somehow make a profit they will."

"But we want to make our own joke shop Harry." Fred said when Harry paused. "We can't help you make yours."

Harry turned to look at the twins and offered a smile. "I'm not asking you to help me make my own joke shop. I know nothing about pranks or jokes. I want to help you two make _your _joke shop." He said.

The two paused in their walking again and again there was that silent twin speech they had meticulously crafted and mastered over several years of being practical jokers. "What do you need?" The asked in unison.

Harry held up one finger. "First, your O.W.L. year is coming up. Nine classes each. Combined, I expect at least twelve O.W.L.S. You're both smart, two halves of the same brain in an almost literal sense. Together, I'm sure you'd both be smarter than I am. Well it's time to apply that brain boys."

There was another small discussion between the two of them before they nodded simply. They had planned on simply getting by and not actually applying themselves, but depending on what Harry would give, they would apply themselves.

"Second. I want a business plan write up. Cost of materials, storefront, personnel, shipping, storage, and production. I want product ideas and the going price for them. Your target demographic is school children, not everyone can afford five galleons for a one off gag. But charging seven sickles for something that can get repeated use for all seven years might not be the best of profit making decisions. I can get you a price on any creature supply you could need, but I'll get a general list of commonly used ingredients including restricted trade items. I also want the cost of getting you guys the licenses to be able to access those restricted trade items. Doxy venom requires a class XX license to trade. Summerian Gold Wyvern venom requires a class XXXXX license to trade. Consider that when you're making your products."

George looked Harry in the eyes. Brown to green. "And what, Harry, are you offering?" He asked.

"Twenty thousand galleon. No loan, no collateral." Harry said. He realized it was a lot of money to just dump on the boys. They even looked surprised by it. Twenty thousand was roughly one hundred thousand pounds. He wanted them to have enough start-up capital to be successful. He had heard of too many businesses failing because of the people that had run his company in his absence not giving small business owners not enough capital.

"In return for not making it a loan, I'll be a silent partner and I get ten percent of your net profits. Gringotts would have a five point seven two five percent interest rate on their loans of ten thousand galleons or more. And they take their payment off of Gross earnings."

The twins looked to one another before once more at Harry. "We'll have to think about it and give you our answer another time Harry." Fred said. "You just dropped a lot on us." He said.

Harry nodded and clapped George on the arm. "At least seriously consider it. Competition can bring out the best of us, and I think if Zonko's had to compete with another joke shop, then their products would get a strong update."

Harry moved away from the pair and started further down the path. He found Hannah and Susan waiting beside a carriage and he smiled. He helped them get their luggage in before he helped them up into the carriage. He stepped in quickly enough. "So, doing anything fun for the summer?" he asked the pair.

"Vacation!" Hannah exclaimed gleefully. "Mum and Dad are taking me to the Bahamas. So sun and sand for me. Sorry Sue."

Susan shook her head and grinned. "All she's been able to talk about for like two months since she found out." Hannah stuck her tongue out at Susan and the redhead only grinned more. "Auntie is getting a pool installed in the back during June. So hopefully by July, I'll be swimming in water that I don't have to worry about anything trying to grab me. Plus, hopefully it'll be warm."

Harry nodded his head. "Well, I'll be in Switzerland with Ron of course," He had already informed them of what his summer plans were. "After that to Hong Kong."

"Careful out there, okay?" Susan said. "There isn't a junior's division. It has the best of the world, regardless of their age."

Harry inclined his head. Flitwick had said much the same to be truthful. But Harry, he was looking forward to it. To see the best doing what they did best. He wanted to against them. And he wanted to win.

He would do his teacher proud, and he would do his country proud. It was just more prestige for him. He wanted to make sure his enemies thought twice before facing him.

-**End of Book Two-**

**A/N: And here we are, we've brought Book 2: Pestilence to a close. It's a shorter chapter, there wasn't exactly much that I needed to put in this chapter. But I wanted to do it, to have this conclusion.**

**This story is on Hiatus for a month, month and a half. See you guys in November!**


End file.
